Hang Onto Yourself
by Maxie Kay
Summary: Kensi and Deeks try to combine parenthood with working for NCIS, but a new operation could be the ultimate test of their love.  Continues the story that began in 'I'm Not In Love' and 'You're Still The One I Want'.
1. Chapter 1

**Hang Onto Yourself**

**An NCIS: Los Angeles Story**

**By**

**Maxie Kay**

_And baby makes three for Kensi and Deeks– which is rather apt, as this story is the third in a trilogy, that started with __**I'm Not In Love**__ and continued in __**You're Still The One I Want. **_

* * *

><p>"Ssshh!" Kensi put her finger to her lips for added emphasis. "We just got him back off to sleep." She opened the front door as quietly as possible and ushered her guests in.<p>

"We brought breakfast," Callen said in an undertone, all but tip-toeing in behind her. "Because we thought you might have been a bit caught up with all the excitement of bringing Densi home yesterday." And judging by the fact Kensi was still in her robe and slippers at eight thirty in the morning, they'd been entirely correct.

Halfway through the living room, walking as delicately as possible, Sam stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Marty lying on the sofa, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts that stated _'I'm the Daddy'_ and with Densi sprawled comfortably on his bare chest. They were both sound asleep, and while the baby looked supremely relaxed, the same could not be said for his father, who appeared to be frowning in his sleep and also had a large lump on his forehead that was already starting to discolour. There were matching dark circles underneath his eyes.

"Don't say a word!" Kensi hissed and draped a blanket carefully over the sleeping pair, before ushering her guests through to the kitchen.

"Fatherhood suits Deeks. But maybe you might want to think about getting him some pyjama pants before winter hits and it starts to get too cold?" Sam was just glad that Deeks was actually wearing boxers for once, given his propensity for going commando a good deal of the time.

"Is there any particular reason why Deeks is sleeping on the couch?" Callen asked curiously. _Surely they can't have had another of their rows and she's making him __and __the baby sleep downstairs?_

"We had the most awful night." Kensi leant back against the kitchen counter and looked utterly miserable. "First we thought he'd stopped breathing, because he was so quiet…" It had got to the stage where she had almost poked her son, just to make sure he was still alive. She'd be better prepared tonight though, and already looked out a pocket mirror, so she could slip it nest to Densi's mouth to see if it misted over.

Sam stifled a chortle. He remembered that particular situation only too well.

"… and then, just as we'd got into bed, Densi started crying." Kensi looked as if she going to start crying too. "And it took ages to calm him down. Marty brought him through to our bed, and then we didn't want to move him and risk waking him up again, so we left him in the middle of the bed between us. But then Marty was so scared he might roll over in his sleep and squash the baby, so he was perched right on the edge of the mattress, and clinging on for dear life. Only of course, he fell asleep, and then he rolled over and fell right out of bed." She winced at the memory. It had been a very loud thud and had certainly sounded painful. Mind you, having a heavy-based table lamp land on your head was going to hurt, nine times out of ten. While her husband had only been slightly maimed, the lamp was never going to be the same again.

This time it was Callen who was struggling not to laugh at the picture this created.

"And that woke Densi up again, and of course he started crying again," Kensi continued. "So, in the end, Marty brought him down here so I could try to get some sleep." She'd been on the verge of crying from sheer exhaustion herself, but then it had been past 4 am, which was never a good time.

Callen patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. Clearly, being on an overnight stakeout was nothing compared to your baby's first night at home. "You need coffee," he said firmly. "And we have coffee. We also have muffins. Double chocolate chip muffins," he added temptingly, knowing her weakness.

"I'm trying to eat more healthily." Kensi reached up to a cupboard and produced a packet of oatmeal, which she looked at with considerable disgust. "Marty says it's terribly good for you. And it's even better if you have it with blueberries. Seemingly. " She did not look convinced. Nine months of eating healthily had seemed like an eternity spent in hell. Towards the end she had even dreamt about Twinkies and Ding Dongs and all those other yummy goodies. Only now she really wanted to breastfeed, and everyone said you had to have a healthy, well-balanced diet to give your baby the necessary nutrients and build up his immune system. So, if that was what was required, then that was what she would do. She'd do whatever was best for Densi – even if that meant eating oatmeal. But it didn't mean she had to enjoy it.

"The proper place for blueberries is in a muffin," Callen informed her. "Want me to go back and buy you one?"

"You'd do that for me? That's so sweet of you." Kensi grew quite misty-eyed at the prospect. "But I'll manage with the chocolate." It was hard, but someone had to do it. And how much damage could one little muffin do? She peeled off the wrapper and took a large bite. Her eyes practically bulged with pleasure as her tastebuds revelled in the sweet goodness.

"So self-sacrificing, that's our Kensi." Sam handed her a cup of coffee and she sniffed it rapturously.

"I've been without caffeine for eight months. Eight long months. You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to this." More than anything else, even more than junk food, Kensi had craved coffee during her pregnancy. The only problem was that the baby had such a violent reaction to caffeine that just one sip had him jumping for joy in her belly, which in turn felt as if he was turning somersaults inside her. Morning sickness was nothing compared to the queasiness induced by an infant Deeks getting his first hit of caffeine. It looked very much as if Densi was going to be just as addicted to coffee as his father.

"Do I smell coffee?" Marty staggered into the kitchen, clutching Densi protectively to his bare chest with one hand, while the other raked through his hair. "Coffee?" he repeated piteously.

"Tell you what – how about we trade? You give me the baby and I'll give you some coffee?" Sam suggested. "But go put on some clothes first. It's too early to be subjected to those boxer shorts." He reached out and took the sleeping child with accustomed ease.

Marty looked down at his boxers and shrugged. "They were a present from Hetty," he remarked and disappeared back upstairs.

"Tell me it won't always be like this?" Kensi pleaded. She could run over-cover ops; she was a crack shot and she could do almost anything the guys could do (with the possible exception of peeing standing up, although she was working on that) – so why was motherhood proving so difficult?

"It won't always be like this," Sam assured her, looking quizzically at her son. There was something about the expression on the baby's face that was terribly familiar.

"Thank God." She helped herself to another muffin and took a generous bite. With any luck she would manage to dispose of the evidence before Marty came back downstairs.

"No, it won't always be like this – because it's going to get a whole lot worse. This is only the beginning. Think of it like being on honeymoon. And then remember what it's like when you go come back to reality."

Callen reached out and patted Kensi on the back as a large chunk of muffin went down the wrong way and she choked and spluttered.

"Sorry – but you did ask." Sam looked back down at the baby and sniffed loudly. "Time to give you back to your Daddy, Densi. Great timing, by the way, Deeks. You've arrived right on cue to change his diaper."

"Not again." Marty looked at his son in disgust. The baby blinked back sleepily at him.

"Get used to it. In a couple of weeks' time you'll be able to change a diaper in your sleep."

"Believe me, I was already doing that last night, Sam." He undid the diaper and then dodged neatly as his son peed in a graceful arc that achieved a quite remarkable distance for one so small. "Sorry, Callen – did that get you?"

Sam couldn't remember when he'd enjoyed himself quite so much. "Better learn to stand out of the firing line, G. And keep your mouth shut next time."

* * *

><p><em>Yes - Kensi, Marty and Densi are all back, along with their dear little friends, the plot bunnies. So far only slushy has come out to play, but it's early days...<em>


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm terribly sorry," Kensi said, handing Callen a towel, as Marty hastily grabbed a clean diaper and attempted to stem the flow of urine. She dabbed ineffectually at the stains, attempting to blot up as much liquid as possible, but it was no good – the cotton fbric was soaked right through. "How about we get you a clean shirt?"

"That would be good." Callen peeled his sodden shirt off with a shudder, thanking his lucky stars that his head had been turned to one side, Sam's comment notwithstanding. He looked over at Densi in admiration and awe. "He's got a good aim, I'll say that for him. And he's hung like a horse." The kid took after his mother in the aim department and after his father in just about everything else.

"Enough with the personal comments," Kensi said sharply. "Little ears and all that."

"Kensi, he's three days old. He doesn't even know who he is, for crying out loud."

"Don't say that word!" she snapped, but it was already too late and a series of ear piercing shrieks filled the room. "Never say 'crying' again, alright? It's like tempting fate. And it's never too early to get into good habits." The cries were increasing in volume. "Haven't you finished yet?"

Marty gave her the look of a man who is half-deafened. "I am now. I forgot to point him south first time around."

Callen looked bemused but decided it was better not to ask. Especially if it related to what he thought it might. He'd just have to wait until Kensi decided on a suitable bland and inoffensive word for 'penis' and then they could all have fun watching Deeks try to remember it.

"You'd better give him to me. I think that's his hungry cry." Kensi gathered the baby to her and beat a hasty retreat upstairs to the privacy of the nursery. She'd never been shy about her body, but even so there was no way she was about to start feeding in front of her team mates. Not until she'd got the hang of it at least. And probably not even then. There were limits, after all, and this was probably one of them.

"You want I should bring you a pair of ear-protectors over from the shooting range?" Sam suggested helpfully.

"Believe me, if I thought I'd get away with wearing them, I would." Marty looked up at the ceiling and shook his head regretfully. Kensi would find out. Nothing was more certain. "No way. I'd be dead meat. She's in full-on tiger mode at the moment. But it gets better, doesn't it?" He gave Sam a beseeching look. "Please tell me it gets better?"

Sam felt as if he was having déjà vu. "Sorry, buddy, but as the baby gets bigger, the mother gets more protective."

"And the father doesn't?" Callen shook his head. "Sam – remember that story you told about following your daughter's school bus every day for a week?"

"Yeah – but what I didn't tell you was her Mom actually got on the bus and sat down beside her. Just in case – or so she said." It had taken his daughter two years to get over that and her friends still brought it up to this day.

Callen looked at his watch and jumped up. "How about you go get me that clean shirt, Deeks? Anything without a slogan on it will do – because we're already late." He grabbed the last muffin from the counter, just to keep himself going.

"I was looking forward to that," Marty informed him.

"Whatever happened to oatmeal? Good old, healthy oatmeal?"

"With berries," Sam added.

"Screw oatmeal." Marty grabbed the muffin and demolished it in two bites and loped out of the room. Someone was definitely going to have to amend his language.

Upstairs, Kensi sat on the glider in the nursery with a despondent look on her face. On his way back down with a dry shirt for Callen, Densi's continued cries alerted Marty to the fact that his morning feed was not going according to schedule. Last night Kensi had tried to nurse - had tried valiantly, but just didn't seem to be able to produce enough milk to satisfy the baby.

"No luck?" Marty knelt down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. "Maybe you're too tense or something?" He rubbed her shoulder tenderly and wondered how long it took for a child to starve to death. Densi was squirming vigorously enough on his mother's lap, so imminent expiry didn't seem too likely. "Do you want me to go down to the store and get some formula?"

"I don't want you to – but I think you're going to have to" A tear dripped off the end of Kensi's nose. "I feel like such a failure. I can't even feed my own baby." She'd been so looking forward to breast feeding, but now her nipples felt as if they were on fire and the scar from her operation was twinging in sympathy.

"It's not your fault." Marty rocked her gently, with the vague hope it might also settle his son. "It doesn't matter. And look at it this way – if we get him on formula, then I can do the night feeds and let you sleep." He clutched at the idea like a drowning man grabs onto a straw.

"Formula's not as good as breast milk. Breast is best – that's what everyone says."

"You know I think your breasts are best." But right now Marty knew they were also strictly 'hands off' territory. There was only one male in the Deeks household who was allowed access and he didn't seem too keen – unlike his father.

"But they don't do what they're supposed to do – which is to feed a baby. Not provide hours of entertainment for you. What's the point?"

That was clearly a question which did not require to be answered. Not if he ever wanted to get to touch her breasts again. "Do you want to give one more shot?"

Kensi shrugged unenthusiastically. "Might as well." She opened her robe and unfastened her maternity bra with a deep sigh. She had drawers of pretty underwear, and there she was, wearing this heavy-duty affair that had all the sexual allure of a truss. And big knickers. Huge knickers, that came right up to her belly button and had to be the most unglamorous, gloriously comfortable things ever.

"You planning on giving me that shirt anytime today?" Callen asked, sticking his head around the door just as Kensi was trying to persuade her son to take her nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck off out of here!"

Callen did as he was requested with great rapidity. It was a moot point as to who had the redder face – himself or Kensi. But she seemed to have forgotten her earlier statements about being watching ones language before the baby.

"Sorry about that." Marty edge around the door and handed Callen the shirt. "Feeding's still a bit of a struggle. Densi's not exactly taken to the breast. And Kensi's a bit sensitive about it." Okay, that was an understatement. She was extremely sensitive – mentally and physically.

"He's nothing like his father then, is he?" Callen said tartly. "What is it with this house? I come in and you're lying there in your morning glory wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, then your son pees all over me and now your wife is flashing herself at me."

"Whereas you're just going back to Nell tonight. Nell with her little pixie hair-cut and her cute clothes and her smile and…" Marty sighed. "And I need to get out of here. Give me a ride to the grocery store, will you?"

"Why?" Callen asked suspiciously, having a mental image of Deeks prowling around looking longing at the men's magazines and then being ritually sacrificed when Kensi found out what he'd been up.

"To buy formula. And some headache tablets."He rubbed his head and Callen notied the lump where the lamp had hit him was now quite bruised. "God, I wish I was coming in to work with you. Getting shot at by a drug dealer would be so relaxing compared to this. You don't want to swap, do you?"

"No way. And stop feeling sorry for yourself, Deeks. You're in seventh heaven, and you know it."

"I'm too tired to know anything. I think I've had about 4 hours sleep over the last two days. If I'm lucky."

Callen patted him on the shoulder. "Marty – you're the luckiest man I know," he said sincerely. "And I'll even give you a ride to the store and bring you back again. But just this once. Don't think I'm going to make a habit of it, okay?"

"Have you ever heard it's really lucky to be peed on by a baby?" Marty said with a winning smile.

"Nice try – but no coconut. Now hurry up or you're going to have to buy me some headache tablets too."


	3. Chapter 3

"Baby relaxation classes? Really?" Marty wondered if the incessant crying had started to drive him slowly but surely mad.

"Really." Kensi was pacing up and down the floor, while Densi howled miserably in her arms. "I did some research online and they say it can relax a baby – make them feel secure and content." So far, they'd tried everything – swaddling him like a miniature mummy, going for rides in the car, playing a recording of 'womb sounds' – but nothing had given more than a brief respite. "I found a centre nearby that runs classes and they had a space. What have we got to loose?"

"It's worth a try, I guess." Right now, if someone had suggested that taking figure-skating lessons would calm his son down, then Marty would have been right out there on the ice throwing triple axels with the best of them.

"Good. Because the class starts in an hour." Kensi handed Densi to his father and started getting things ready. She'd discovered that even a short trip away from home meant you had to pack enough equipment and supplies to fill the trunk of the car. How could one little person need so much stuff?

"Do you want me come too ?" _Please say 'no'. Please. Sure, there's the prospect of some hot yummy mommies, but there's also a fair chance that all the other babies will be crying and I don't think I could cope with that. I'm not sure it's safe for me to carry a gun right now._

"That's sweet, but it's more a one-to-one sort of class. I can go over it with you when we get back." More than anything, Kensi was hoping that there would be other mothers there who were going through the same nightmare as she was. She just needed to know that it wasn't anything she was doing wrong. And if the class also calmed her son down a bit, that would only be an added bonus. Motherhood was not exactly panning out the way she'd hoped. She loved Densi with an almost painful intensity, but he was not exactly an easy baby.

"That would be good." _And with any luck, when you get back Densi might sleep for more than an hour and you can strip down to her underwear and I could be naked and you could show me exactly what you learned…_ and Marty couldn't remember the last time he'd gone without sex for so long. It had to be back in High School. And if it continued much longer, he might just forget what to do. Mind you, what with the lack of sleep and the general tension in the house, Marty wasn't actually that bothered about sex or the lack thereof. _Which only goes to show how messed up things are,_ he thought. _Son, you've got lot to answer for._

"How about we meet up afterwards? At the Mission?" Despite everything, Kensi was longing to show Densi off to everyone. She'd always thought it was vaguely ridiculous when people brought their babies in to work, but this was different. This was completely different. Everybody was longing to see Densi. Now, if only he didn't scream the whole time… _yeah, right. I must be getting delusional through lack of sleep. That's a form of torture – sleep deprivation._

"You want to go for a ride with Mommy and Daddy in the car?" Marty asked, jangling the keys enticingly.

"It's not like training a puppy. He's a baby."

_I almost wish he was. After ten days I'd have a pup housetrained and rolling over on command._ "He knows what the car keys mean, don't you, Densi?" Sure enough, the baby's eyes were attempting to focus in the direction of the noise. "You do want to go in the car, don't you?"

Kensi stuffed a few more essentials into a backpack. "I bet he gets it from you."

"What – the fact he's so cute?"

"You wish. No – the non-stop crying. I was a model baby." It was a struggle to close the zipper, but with a little force she managed it.

"People used to stop my mother in the street and tell her how gorgeous I was," he countered.

"That would be the people with the seeing-eye dogs, would it?"

"Mommy loves me, she does. It's just that she thinks she's funny, so we just have to go along with it. You'll learn son. It's the only way if you want a quiet life." _It's never too early to start teaching them about the facts of life after all. Rule Number 1: women are always right. Once you accept that, life is really quite simple._

"A quiet life? If only." Kensi picked up the bag and groaned as she felt the weight. "I used to pack less for a week's vacation."

Vacations? Oh yes, Marty remembered those. They were the times when he and Kensi would go off together and barely leave the hotel room. Maybe in about 18 years' time they could plan another one?

* * *

><p>"Did you miss me?" Marty asked, sipping the traditionally awful coffee brewed at the Mission. It tasted like Heaven: sharp and sour. Even the after taste of left-behind scouring pad tasted good. And the place was so quiet, so blessedly quiet. There was no sound of a washing machine or dryer in the background for starters.<p>

"Who are you again?" Sam looked at him curiously. "We used to have this blond guy who worked here for a while. It was kind of like a foster-care arrangement until they could find him a proper home. Only he didn't have these big black circles under his eyes. Sit down before you fall over, because you look like hell, Deeks."

"As good as that?" Marty sank into the chair Sam pulled forward. "Why did nobody tell me how hard this is?" He propped his feet up on the desk and sighed with contentment.

"I tried to warn you," Sam reminded him.

"And I wouldn't listen. Point taken."

Callen shook his head. "How much work can one tiny little baby be?"

"He's in love," Sam confided. "Seeing things through rose-tinted glasses."

"How about you and Nell take Densi for a few hours on Saturday?" _Or you could keep him till he's about three. We wouldn't mind. Honestly._

"Really?" Nell bounced over, full of joy and totally missing the look of horror on Callen's face. It was either that or she was deliberately ignoring him. "You'd really trust us to look after him?" _Oh wow – I could have a whole afternoon with him. I can't think of anything I'd rather do. We can take him out in his stroller and I can pretend he's mine. Or ours. Whatever._

"Sure we would." _I'd even trust Eric to look after him. Probably._

"I'd made plans," Callen said smoothly and shot Deeks a hateful look. _Plans that definitely do not involve a baby. Especially your exceptionally noisy baby, who peed all over me._

Nell gave him a hard look. "Cancel them." It not only sounded like an order, it was an order.

"Mr Deeks!" Hetty actually sounded delighted to see him. "How fortuitous you should come by, just as we are in need of your skills." _Dear God, you look terrible. I've seen soldiers airlifted out of combat zones who looked better than you do._

"He's on leave, Hetty," Sam reminded her. "Paternity leave? Looking after a baby. And look at the state of him." _He'd be about as much use as a chocolate teapot._

Marty gave her a smile, that was a thin shadow of his normal grin. "You need me for something?" _Please say you need me to come back. I wouldn't mind coming back a bit early. It would be positively relaxing._

"We do indeed. You have some skills in the area of therapeutic massage, I believe?"

Marty shrugged. "I did a course for an undercover op I ran once. It's not something you ever really forget." He flexed his fingers and a fond, reminiscing smile crept across his face at the memories. Sonya, the Norwegian masseuse, who wore tight white shorts and had more skill in her little finger than most people had in their entire bodies.

"We could use your assistance, Marty. I hate to ask, knowing how precious these first few weeks are, but you really would be doing us a huge favour."

"You're asking Deeks to give massages and you think he's doing us a favour?" Callen wondered if the strain was starting to get to Hetty. "Listen, you could charge him to do that and he'd still say 'yes'. This is Deeks we're talking about."

"I'm a reformed character. Happily married man, with child." Marty pointed to his wedding ring and gve him a reproachful look. "You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking these things, Callen."

"That was really cynical of you." Nell linked her arm through Marty's in an expression of solidarity. Sam decided it was safest not to say anything at all.

"Hetty – for the good of the team, for the good of NCIS – I'm your man." Marty gave her a beatific grin, realising he'd just found his 'get out of jail free' card. "There's just one thing…"

"And it weighs about eight pounds, screams a lot and pees over people?"

"You'd like me to talk to Kensi?" Hetty said sympathetically. She wondered if Marty would be offended if she suggested he took a little nap in the first aid room, because at the moment it looked as if the only reason he was still upright was because Nell was propping him up.

"Did I head my name?" Kensi appeared, with Densi in a baby carrier.

"He's asleep?" Marty said in astonishment. "He's actually asleep?"

"He's asleep. That class was like a dream come true." _And all the other mothers were as frustrated as me, which was even better. _

"You drove here and he's still asleep?" Callen couldn't believe it either. Kensi's driving usually made him feel nauseous, so he hated to think what it would do to a baby. Of course, Densi had had nine months to get used to it.

"Isn't he just adorable?" Nell cooed, crouching down to take a good look. "Look at him in hat adorable little striped onesie. And he's grown so much!" Densi opened his eyes and looked straight at her and Nell nearly tumbled over backwards in delight.

"It's only been three days since you saw him," Callen reminded her.

"I know. Three whole days and he's grown so much!" Nell straightened up and smiled at Kensi. "And we're going to take him for a lovely afternoon on Saturday, Kensi. Maybe we could go to the park and feed the ducks?"

That was so far removed what Callen's plans, which had revolved around his handcuffs, a mask and a large tub of cookie dough ice cream, it was untrue. "Maybe Kensi doesn't feel that's a good idea?" he suggested hopefully.

"Oh, it sounds wonderful. He'd love that." Kensi looked across at Marty and smiled. "He'd absolutely adore that." _And so will I. Freedom!_

* * *

><p><em>Hmmm - so Kensi and Marty are going to have a Saturday afternoon all to themselves. I wonder what they might possibly do? maybe a nice jigsaw puzzle?<em>

_But what will Kensi say when she discovers Hetty wants Marty to go undercover as a masseur?_

_stay tuned to find out all this and more._


	4. Chapter 4

As if on cue, Densi began to make vague noises of discontent. She might have known this imitation of a perfect baby was too good to last.

"Uh oh. Someone's just about to realise he's hungry." Kensi started to rummage in her bag for one of the bottles of formula, knowing that if she didn't act quickly the yells would soon start and could very well loosen the Mission's interior plasterwork. "Nell – do me a favour and take Densi out of his car seat and give him to Marty, will you?" The bottle was proving elusive and was eventually located under the spare clothes, the blanket, the baby wipes and the pile of diapers. She had to develop some kind of system…

"Sure." Nell wrestled with the straps, which proved to be not only child-proof but virtually adult-proof as well and eventually managed to release the baby. Callen noticed that it was only with extreme reluctance that she handed Densi over to his father, who casually laid his son on his outstretched legs so that Densi was leanining backwards and continued chatting to Sam.

"He's going to fall," Hetty cautioned. She was very tempted to tell him to take his feet off the desk, only the baby actually looked comfortable in the unusual position, so she relented. All the same, she made a mental note to have a few words at a later date about the correct place for feet - i.e. on the floor.

"No, he's not. We do this all the time at home and he likes it. He can see me and it's quite safe. I'm watching him and he's fine. It's not like he can roll over or anything like that." Truth be told, Marty liked being able to see Densi too. Plus, it was the ideal position to watch TV from at home. Marty was still rueing the fact Kensi had made him give his leather recliner to Callen all those years ago. The built-in beer holder would have been ideal for storing baby bottles in, after all. In odd moments he wondered if Callen and Nell ever made use of the massage function and suspected that they probably did. But then they didn't have a baby and they still had a sex life too. Life wasn't fair, it really wasn't fair. And then he looked at Densi, who had just stuffed his hand into his mouth and realised he wouldn't change anything. Except the sex part, of course. That went without saying.

"Kensi's given up the struggle, has she?" Sam asked.

"Yup, he's on formula. It just wasn't working and they were both getting upset."

"Not as upset as Callen was. He hasn't been able to look her in the eye ever since." Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see his partner pretending that he hadn't heard that last remark. It served him right for looking at Kensi's breasts anyway. Not that Sam didn't do the same, but he hadn't been caught yet.

"Maybe if he had been looking Kensi in the eye this wouldn't have happened?" Marty suggested slyly, taking hold of both of Densi's feet in one hand and watching as the small legs started to kick. "Amazing how flexible they are, isn't it? And he's getting quite strong too." There was more than a hint of pride in his voice

"You're not really concentrating, are you Deeks?" Sam couldn't help smiling as he clocked the besotted expression on the younger man's face. "Your heart belongs to Densi."

"Did you say something?" Marty looked up at Sam and grinned. "I am listening, really. But it's just so nice to have him quiet for once."

Kensi came back through at a semi-trot, clutching the bottle. "He's still quiet?" she asked, in tones that suggested the age of miracle had not yet past.

"Whatever they taught in that class certainly did the trick." Marty eased Densi up into his arms and took the bottle. Was it his imagination, or did the baby's eyes light up in recognition? "You are going to go to the next one, aren't you?" He crossed his fingers and hoped for a positive answer.

Kensi still couldn't quite believe it either "I signed up on the spot. The classes are twice a week." And with any luck, she'd make some new friends. Being a new mother was rather isolating after all and it would be good to be able to talk to some people who really understood.

"Noisy little beggar, isn't he?" Callen commented as the sound of enthusiastic slurping filled the air.

"We figured we'd wait until he could sit up before we started on the whole 'table manners' thing," Kensi replied sarcstically. "But now you mention it… How about you give us a couple of more weeks to crack it?"

Hetty managed to tear her eyes away from the baby, whose eyes were crossing over with delight as he stared intently at the bottle and suckled with gusto. "I have a favour to ask, Ms Blye. A rather big favour."

"You're not using my baby on an operation. No way." Some things were not even up for discussion.

"It's not the baby she wants – it's the big baby." Callen inclined his head towards Deeks, who was now burbling nonsense and making faces at Densi, who bore this with remarkable equanimity and continued to feed noisily.

"Him, you can have. With pleasure. Exactly what do you want him for?"

"We require Mr Deeks' services to go undercover at a sports injury clinic."

Callen brightened up at this. "We could arrange for Deeks to have an injury, couldn't we Sam? How bad do you want it to be?"

"Still here. And still able to hear." Marty reminded him.

"And I'd rather not have him maimed, thank you very much. I've got enough to do looking after Densi."

"There's no question of Mr Deeks being injured or attending as a patient. He's going to work there, giving sports massages."

Kensi digested this news. "Massages? What sort of massages? And to who?" She really didn't like the sound of this.

"Hot blondes, I hope."

There were times when Hetty really wanted to follow the example of Gibbs and resort to a head slapping; it would make life so much more simple. "We're following up reports that the clinic is used by various members of an organisation we've been watching for some time. The evidence is starting to point to the fact that they have links to several known terrorist groups and we have reason to believe they may be planning to commence activities on the west coast."

"And Deeks is going to pummel the information out of them?" Sam raised an eyebrow quizzically. "That's different."

"Nothing quite so crude, Mr Hannah. Although a deep massage can actually be rather painful. It's all about anatomy, you know."

"That's what I've always said," Marty remarked _sotto voce_. "You can't beat having a thorough knowledge of anatomy. You never know when it'll come in handy. " He looked up at Kensi and winked happily. "I might need some help getting back up to speed though. Maybe I could practice on you?"

"Maybe Hetty could help you get back up to speed?" she suggested sweetly.

"I'm always willing to assist in training activities with any member of my team. Just as Mr Callen how we've worked together on the climbing wall." Although the way Hetty remembered it, Callen had yet to beat her. "But for the purposes of this exercise, I thought a little one-to-one tuition might be called for. Which is why I've arranged for Freya to join us shortly."

"Freya?" You could almost see the wheels working inside Marty's head. The vacant expression on his face, combined with the glazed eyes and slack jaw was a dead giveaway to the thoughts that were tantalising him.

"What was that you said about being a happily married man?" Callen asked rhetorically.

"Freya," Marty repeated slowly, letting each syllable roll off his tongue. "That sounds Nordic." It also sounded too good to be true.

"She's Norwegian," Hetty confirmed.

"Norwegian." That was clearly a good thing as far as he was concerned.

"Please tell me she's sixty, has a moustache and arms like a shot-putter?" So it sounded like he was begging? Sam really didn't care.

"Why don't you judge for yourself? She's joining us shortly. So why don't you get ready, Mr Deeks? Preparation is everything, after all."

Sam had only one question: "Can we watch?" A comely Norwegian masseuse putting Deeks through his paces sounded too good to be true.

"Why not? You'll be joining Mr Deeks at the clinic, by the way."

"Okay, I can do that. You want me to be a personal trainer or something?" Sam flexed his biceps meditatively.

"Unfortunately, there were no openings for that. But I have managed to secure you a position as the attendant for the men's sauna and steam rooms."

"You want me to stand around all day and hand out towels?" Sometimes Sam wondered why he even bothered coming in to work.


	5. Chapter 5

When Freya walked into the Mission, Sam knew for certain that life was definitely unfair. Freya was not flaxen haired, but she was undoubtedly gorgeous – from the top of her long, auburn French pleat right down to the tips of her impeccably manicured toe nails, Freya was five foot seven inches of Nordic deliciousness.

Kensi took one look at Freya and clasped her arms around herself protectively, only too aware that her body was refusing to spring back into its pre-pregnancy shape and that she was still some way off getting back into her jeans. The zip was still stubbornly refusing to close and there was no way she could manage to fasten the button. Equally, there was no way she was going to buy a bigger size. Maybe it was time to consider buying a pair of Spanx? Because sit-ups and indeed any form of strenuous exercise was still forbidden for another couple of weeks, until she had fully recovered from the caesarean section. The only cliché Freya seemed to be lacking was the sexy foreign accent. It turned out she hailed from rural Iowa originally. But she ticked all the other boxes: big blue eyes, ivory skin that tanned to an even golden colour and a body to die for. A body Kensi was willing to kill for. It was either that or she had give up eating altogether. Life was so unfair. And she was going to get to run her hands all over Marty. Her husband, Marty. Her husband, who highly sexed and who had been sadly deprived in that department for some time. At least, Kensi hoped he had been. She could remember the days when they had stayed in bed all day, making love and then lying languidly talking about everything and nothing before making love again and again and again. _Oh God, those were golden days. I miss being with you, I miss just lying in your arms and knowing you love me. I want to do that again. I want to make love to you like there is no past, no present and no tomorrow. I want you to make love to me so that the stars implode inside my head. I want you so much._

"You were worth it," she said, looking down at Densi, who was now guzzling the last remnants of his bottle. "Even if you did ruin my life. And my body. And it was such a great body…" _Maybe I should hold a memorial for it? Farewell and adieu… No wonder Marty's not badgering me for sex. I can't blame him._

Marty gave her a confused look. "It's still great." _If anything,_ he thought, _it's actually better… the new softness feels so sweet_. _If only I could get to touch you more often without the baby crying or both of us being so shattered we just fall into bed and barely even kiss each other goodnight. I miss you, Kensi. I miss what we used to have and I want to get it back_. "Can you burp him?" He handed Densi over with alacrity and went over to introduce himself to Freya, knowing that if he didn't move away he was going to pull Kensi into his arms and kiss her properly, like he'd been dreaming about. Only once he started kissing her, Marty didn't think he'd be able to stop.

"Can you get me the small towel from my bag?" Kensi asked Callen, as she hoisted the baby onto her shoulder and began the rhythmic patting that was now second nature. It seemed impossible to remember a time when she did not have a small body in her arms. She bent her head down to inhale his delicious baby-scent and rested her cheek on his soft hair as an almost painful pang of love exercised its familiar grip on her heart.

"Oh – isn't he adorable!" Freya was one huge beam. "You forget how cute they are when they're still so very new." She smiled at Kensi. "My youngest is six months now, and it seems impossible he was once that tiny."

"Six months?" Kensi looked at the taut belly Freya's crop- top exposed: taut and firm and without a stretch mark in sight. Great, now she felt even worse.

"I know! I can't imagine where the time has gone." Freya took hold of one tiny hand and sighed with delight.

"And you've got other children?" It scarcely seemed believable that she'd had one child. Clearly this woman was either in league with the Devil, or she had some great secret.

"Three in total." Freya started to reel off details, but all Kensi could think about was getting her to somewhere private and finding out how she'd got her body back. It looked like Freya could be the answer to her dreams. Things were definitely starting to look up.

"Here you go." Callen handed Kensi the towel and flashed a beguiling smile at Freya. Clearly he'd missed the bit about the fact she had three children and presumably a partner. Sadly, Freya was too busy cooing at Densi to more than nod at him.

"Put it over my shoulder, will you? My hands are kind of full." Kensi turned so that Callen could oblige and it was only because he had fast reactions that he was able to avoid Densi's spontaneous regurgitation of a good portion of his lunch, accompanied by a hearty belch.

"Your kid really has it in for me," he informed Kensi. The prospect of spending an entire afternoon with the little horror was looking blacker by the second. Callen wondered how he could possible talk Nell out of it.

"Just wait till they start weaning him onto solids. That's when the fun really begins." Sometimes, in the dark of the night, Sam was still haunted by the memory of his daughter's diaper after they'd given her some orange juice. Callen began to give serious consideration to asking Hetty for a move. Maybe to the East Coast? That ought to be far enough.

* * *

><p>"We'll start by concentrating on your shoulders." Freya poured a little oil into her hands and started to warm it up. "I'll tell you what I'm doing, and which muscles I'm working on. I'm sure it'll all come back to you. Massage is part science, part art. But the first thing you have to do is to use your eyes and really look at the person you're going to work on. And then, when you start the massage, you listen to what your fingers are telling you. Visualise the skeleton and then the muscles lying on top of the bones. Remember how everything should work together in harmony and try to restore that balance."<p>

Marty was lying face down on a massage table Nell had managed to locate, naked except for a small towel draped over his boxer shorts. It was only by the grace of God that he'd actually remembered to put on a pair that morning, or indeed that there was a clean pair to put on. Densi went through clothes at an alarming rate and the washing machine was constantly full of his garments. His parents had resorted to putting on whatever looked clean and did not bear the unmistakeable aroma of sour milk or pee. The choices were usually severely limited.

"Go right on." Marty rested his head on his hands and prepared for a soothing demonstration of how to ease away the aches and pains of everyday life.

Freya looked at him carefully, and noted the dark circles under his eyes, and then let her gaze slip down to encompass the broad shoulders, muscular arms and strong back. His skin was smooth and even-toned and it was clear that he not only worked out, but took care of his body into the bargain. This was going to be a positive pleasure, she thought, like working on a fine piece of art.

"You've got a lot of tension stored up in your shoulders," Freya commented, as her fingers eased across his muscles, and then started to probe individual areas.

"Really?" _Try telling me something I don't know. Life with a brand new baby is so relaxing. I can't imagine why I might be stressed._

"I'm going to have to do some deeper work here, to try to get things moving again." Freya poured a little more oil into the palm of her hand and pulled her own shoulders back and down as she prepared for some hard work.

"Sounds good." Now she mentioned it, he could feel how tense his muscles felt, almost as if his shoulders were being pulled up towards his ears. Marty took a deep breath and let his body relax on the table and ... that hurt. That really hurt. And that was excruciating. "Son of a ….!"

"Breathe!" Freya counselled, pushed him back down and continued working away. "Just breathe through the pain. It'll be worth it, I promise you. I've got to do some deep work here. Just concentrate on what my fingers are doing."

"They're pulling me apart, that's what they're doing," Marty said, breathlessly and tried very hard not to whimper like a girl.

Standing outside and listening intently, Kensi could remember her Lamaze classes, where they'd said much the same thing. It had seemed highly unlikely then and she'd felt a complete wimp for privately vowing to have every sort of drug on offer. It was so good to know she'd been right all along.

"You might be slightly bruised tomorrow." When she was finally finished her modified form of torture, Freya stood back and looked at Marty's back critically. It was decidedly red in patches. "So when you go home, put some ice on that."

_Yeah, I can just see me, with an ice pack on one shoulder and a baby on the other. That's going to work really well._ Marty just lay in an exhausted heap on the table, unable to even lift his head. It felt as if an entire herd of elephants had just trampled over him. And he'd had such plans for the weekend, such wonderful plans… A whole afternoon without Densi. A whole afternoon with just him and Kensi and an empty house.

Kensi knocked on the door. "Have you finished with him?"

"Yes. She's definitely finished." _And she's just about done me in._ There was no way Marty could stand any more of Freya's not-so-tender ministrations. _The woman's a fiend in tight white clothing. I pity any man who gets on the wrong side of her._

"Great. You look nice and relaxed, lying there like that. I just need a quick word with Freya. So get dressed, will you?" Kensi fixed him with a steady look and jerked her head towards the door

"Where's Densi?" Halfway through pulling his pants on it struck Marty that something – or rather someone - was missing.

"Don't panic. Hetty's got him."

He'd never got dressed so quickly before. If there were Olympic records in getting dressed, then Marty would have beaten them all. The prospect of Hetty taking Densi for a guided tour of the armoury was something he didn't even want to consider. "Kensi – she has a flick knife she uses as a letter opener. This is the woman who pretended to be married to an ex-east German spy for years – and you've left our son with her? Our tiny, defenceless, baby son?"

"She loves babies," Kensi said in a matter-of-fact voice. "And she especially loves Densi. Haven't you seen the way she looks at him? Or way she holds him? Hetty knows what she's doing. She's definitely got experience with babies." And while part of her rejoiced to see the way Hetty reacted to Densi, there was another part that ached when she saw the raw longing on the older woman's face, the emotions that not even Hetty could managed to disguise completely. Or maybe it was because she was now a mother and felt this overwhelming love that she could not only see the unrequited love that Hetty so abundantly displayed, but relate to it entirely and empathise with it wholeheartedly? Either way, Kensi knew that Densi could not possibly be in a safer pair of hands.

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny says that he is demanding Kensi and Deeks be allowed to have a romantic afternoon and is threatning to chew through my laptop's power cable. His evil brother says that we are long overdue for a maim. What's a girl to do? Randy plot bunny says he can think of something that would kill two birds with one stone...<em>

_Oh - and writing about a teenager? I live with one. I write to escape that particular reality/horror! I am assured they leave the feral stage at some point and actually become house-trained human beings. So that would be a 'no' - sorry!_


	6. Chapter 6

Hetty was slowly pacing the main floor of the Mission, her upper body moving gently from side to side as she rocked the baby in her arms. Deeks leant against a pillar and watched in rapt fascination as she continued her perambulations, singing quietly under her breath and focusing all her attention on the baby. A smile crept over his face as he realised how right Kensi was: Hetty definitely knew what she was doing with babies. The emotional investment was obvious, and more than a little poignant. And wonder of wonders, it was working. Densi's eyes were shut and he had a look of intense concentration upon his face that Deeks had come to associate with sleep.

"Can we hire you?" he asked when Hetty approached. "You've got the magic touch."

"Anytime you need me, Mr Deeks, just say the word." Hetty looked up, and her face was unreadable once more as the shutters fell firmly back into place. "When one holds a baby, it gives new hope for this dirty, sordid world."

"It's still a beautiful world, despite all the shams and drudgeries?" He reached out and gently took Densi from her. "Only now I guess I've got even more reason to make sure it stays that way." Deeks had a wife and a child and he'd do anything, absolutely anything to make sure nothing ever happened to hurt them.

"You do, don't you?" Hetty had learned a long time ago not to rue what was not, but rather to celebrate what she had. You could not lead a fulfilling life if you concentrated on the injustices of life. Only sometimes, it was hard to always be the one watching from the side-lines, watching as her agents found love and made their own lives that were totally separate from work. The small, everyday miracles of life like a baby should still be celebrated, even if they had been denied to her. "Go home, Mr Deeks. Take your family and go home. Work will still be here on Monday. Enjoy this last weekend."

"That sounds ominous," Deeks said jestingly. "Nell and Callen are taking Densi out for the afternoon on Saturday." He rotated his shoulder cautiously and found that it was actually moving a good deal more easily than before. Maybe Freya's brutal massage was actually paying dividends? "So we have a few hours of peace without this noisy monster." He looked down at Densi and tried to imagine life without him, but quickly gave it up as impossible. Despite all the disruption and the complete devastation of their sex life, he was worth it.

Hetty patted him on the back. "You're not fooling me. Not for one instant. You're as proud as a dog with two tails. Enjoy the rest of your time off." From the slightly wolfish look on his face, she had no doubt that he intended to do just that.

* * *

><p>It was amazing the difference it made having a contented baby who slept for more than two hours at a time, and did not spend his waking hours yelling at the full force of his lungs. Kensi awoke to find it was morning – and that she had slept the whole night through. Stretching out a hand, she discovered the other side of the bed was empty.<p>

"You're awake." Marty almost sounded disappointed. "And I was trying to be really quiet." Densi was in his arms, looking around curiously.

"I missed you. I hate waking up and finding you're not here." She smiled as she looked at the two men in her life and wondered how anyone who did not have this simple contentment could possibly be happy.

Putting the bottle of formula down on the bedside table, Marty pulled off his robe and got back into bed. "I thought I'd get someone his breakfast before he started screaming."

"Good thinking." Kensi took a good long look at father and son and felt her heart fill with joy. "It suits you, you know."

"Being naked? I know, you've kind of given me a hint once or twice."

"No, not that. Although it does, it definitely does. You know I think you look best with nothing on at all. But I meant – this. Just looking at you with Densi. It just seems so right." It had never crossed Kensi's mind that happiness would be watching your husband sitting up in bed, cradling your baby against his bare chest and looking like this was what he was born to do.

"That's because it is. Everything's pretty damned perfect." And, much as he loved his son, Marty couldn't wait until he went out for a nice, long walk with Aunty Nell that afternoon. "There's only one thing that would make this absolute heaven."

"I know that look." With a long suffering sigh Kensi climbed out of bed. "I'll go put the coffee on, shall I?"

"That's why I married your Mommy, son. Because she's a mind reader."

"It's easy, because I know exactly what's on your mind. Mainly because I know you. And I know that look on your face only too well." And after a proper sleep, the idea of some quality time alone together was sounding incredibly appealing. "Anyway, hold onto that thought. Till this afternoon. I'll take a raincheck until then."

"Really? That's the other reason I married Mommy. Because she's smoking hot." But Marty found he was talking to himself, as Kensi had already gone downstairs and Densi had fallen asleep.

* * *

><p>"You're sure you've got everything?"<p>

Callen felt the weight of the rucksack, packed with what Kensi had described as 'a few essentials', and winced. "I think we'll manage. For two hours," he added meaningfully.

"Take as long as you want," Marty said expansively. "Keep him overnight if you want."

Callen really didn't like the way Nell's eyes lit up at that suggestion. Having baby Deeks sleep over was so not on his 'to do' list. He gripped onto the handles of the stroller and marched down the path with a decidedly hang-dog expression on his face.

"Hallelujah." Marty closed the door and then leant back with a sigh of relief. "I thought they'd never go." He turned the key in the lock just in case they tried to come back.

"He will be alright, won't he?" Kensi was standing looking out of the window anxiously. _Am I a terrible mother to hand over my precious baby in such a cavalier fashion? Supposing he misses me?_

"He'll be fine," Densi's father said callously. "But I might not be. Not for much longer."

"He's never gone anywhere without me." She was starting to feel guilty. "And you can look after yourself. You're a big boy."

"Want me to show you how big I am?" _Kensi – don't do this to me._

"No need. I've got twenty-twenty vision." Nell and Callen turned the corner, and her baby moved out of sight. Kensi had this urge to run down the street after them, only Marty was standing behind her and his hands were around her waist and the familiar sensation of his kisses on her neck was making it hard to concentrate.

"I've missed this." One hand moved up to cup her breast and Kensi leaned back against him, tilting her head so that they could kiss properly; kiss long and deep and without risk of interruption.

"Me too." It felt like heaven to be in his arms again, to feel that familiar rush of blood to her head and the resulting tingle in every particle of her body.

"Your breasts are amazing." Marty slipped his hand inside her t-shirt and he sighed with contentment.

"I wish the rest of me was." All of a sudden, Kensi felt shy about exposing herself to the harsh light of day. The body she'd worked so hard for, and slogged away to keep at the top of physical perfection was now much softer, and there was a decided roundness where previously there had been lean muscles.

"You are kidding me, right?" Marty whirled her around in his arms. "Kensi – you look amazing. You look more beautiful than I've ever seen you. And I meant what I said."

She looked confused. "What did you say?"

"In Prague? Remember? 'With my body I thee worship'. How about I show you just how much I worship you? Every inch of you."

Suddenly, she knew it was going to be alright. There was just one thing Kensi needed to ask. "Can we pretend this is the first time? So there's no comparisons with before?"

"We can do whatever you want. We can start all over again and get to know each other from scratch. Every single inch – right from the begining. After all, it's been a long, long time." Marty looked at the way her eyes were shining and felt the way her body moulded against his own in that familiar way. Nobody felt Kensi - and nobody made him feel like Kensi. And he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything. It had been far too damned long, but he was going to make up for lost time.

"HI, my name's Marty and you're the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen." He held out his hand.

"I'm Kensi and I've been watching you." She let him lead her upstairs. "I can't take my eyes off you."

"You can't take your eyes off me – or off my butt?" He looked over his shoulder and grinned. "Are you always as forward as this on a first date?"

"Same difference. And you ain't seen nothing yet, buster." Kensi reached out and pinched him – hard. "Now get up these stairs and make love to me."

They undressed one another slowly, interspersing kisses as garments were discarded and fell softly down to the floor, rediscovering the old familiar pleasures as if for the first time, revelling in the sensation of flesh touching flesh, the way a hand stroking your arm could make all the hairs stand on end. This was slow and wonderous; two people starting the oldest dance in the world and finding new joy and meaning in the familiar steps.

"You've got a scar." Marty's hand was caressing her belly and he was staring so deeply into her eyes that Kensi wondered if he could see directly into her soul. "How about I kiss it better?" She'd refused to let him see her naked since Densi was born, even to the extent of wearing t-shirts and those big pants to bed. But now Kensi was relaxed and even content, and he reckoned her could risk it, so he started to kiss her again, a line of kisses that started at the base of her throat where a rapid pulse was beating. His fingers brushed briefly against the soft curls at her mound, and when he reached that deliciously rounded belly, he lifted up his head to look at her once more, eyes pleading for permission to continue.

"Sure. Why not?" The prospect of his mouth upon her was almost more than Kensi could bear to think about and she shifted slightly, so that Marty could slide down her body, leaving another trail of kisses that seemed to leave a fire behind them.

The first kiss was beside her right hipbone and it was so soft that it felt like the merest whisper, but it was full of promise. The next one was like a dusting of feathers across her skin and then there was the sweet sensation of his tongue darting maddeningly along the length of the incision, and then the kisses began all over again, even as his fingers were describing small, languid circles that moved slowly downwards. And the best thing was that Kensi knew this was only the start.

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny is panting heavily in a corner while randy hops with joy. I'm not quite sure where evil plot bunny is lurking. I don't know if that is a good thing - or a bad thing... I'll let you be the judge of that.<em>


	7. Chapter 7

"Do you know how beautiful you are? How incredibly, amazingly beautiful you are?" The scent of her skin was doing things to him and Marty didn't know how much longer he could delay the inevitable. He'd wanted this to be slow and tender, but right now it was taking every ounce of strength not to just let go and sink into her.

"I'm too fat." There, she'd said what they were both thinking.

"Fat? You are not fat. No way. Not that it would matter, but you are just incredible. All of you. Every singledelicious, tempting inch." Now there was softness where before there had been hard muscle and he was determined to explore the new reality.

"Show me how much you really love this new body?" Kensi begged and it was the invitation he had been waiting for. The skin on her inner thigh felt like silk as he kissed it, and the touch of his mouth made Kensi arch her back in sheer delight. "Touch me." She couldn't bear it any longer, her whole body was crying out for fulfilment. Above all, she needed to know that things hadn't changed, that it would be as good as it had always been.

"I thought you'd never ask." And then his fingers were roving with the utmost delicacy, as Marty watched a slow, knowing smile creep across Kensi's face, followed by a familiar moan. And it felt so good to be touching her again and watching the way she reacted and, best of all, getting so turned on that it was untrue.

"You make me feel so good." The world was shrinking down, so the only thing that existed was the way he was touching her, gliding over her slickness and arousing her even further. And when his mouth joined his fingers and was then followed by the flickering of his tongue, Kensi felt that heaven was so close she could almost reach out and touch it.

"Not so fast. Not without me." Marty was kissing her mouth now and Kensi could taste herself on his lips, even as she reached down and caressed him, welcoming the abrupt jerk and intake of breath as she encircled him with her fingers and felt him straining against her touch.

"I think you're ready."

"You think?" He was above her now, looking down and laughing at her as Kensi guided him towards the point of no return, where all her desires were centred.

"Oh, I know." She gasped in delight as Marty sank smoothly into her.

And it was like coming home. For a moment they lay perfectly still, relishing all the sensations, the sheer wonder of the moment. Slowly, they began to move, picking up the rhythm instinctively, knowing this was going to be short and sweet. This was all about making love, about celebrating their love, about affirming everything they knew about each other and taking it to the next level. Things were different – they could never be the same now that they had Densi – but they were even better that they had dared to dream of. Now they knew what making love was all about, because it had given them the greatest gift of love they could ever have imagined – Densi. The person who made everything complete, whole and perfect. The person who made the setting of the moon and stars make sense. Everything had moved up to a higher level.

* * *

><p>"It's my turn." Nell looked beseechingly at Callen. "You've pushed him for ages."<p>

"You want to push the stroller? Be my guest." It was a cool stroller, one of those three-wheeled, all-terrain versions, but even so Callen really didn't think it was doing his image much good. Who wanted to stroll around a park pushing a baby when you could be cruising the freeway in an Aston Martin with your girlfriend at your side? Your incredibly cute, amazingly hot girlfriend, who had eyes for only one man. It was just a pity that man was only a few weeks old, weighed ten pounds soaking wet and was currently engaged in trying to manoeuvre his foot into his mouth. How had things got to the stage where he'd been usurped by a foot-sucking baby? Exactly what was it with women and babies anyway?

Nell had never thought of herself as particularly maternal – not up until the point where she first saw Densi – and more particularly saw the way his parents changed. There was something in the way Deeks looked at Kensi, like he couldn't believe she'd given him this amazing gift, like she was the most amazing person in the whole world. And of course, there was also something incredibly touching about watching a strong, tough man holding a baby that made her knees feel weak. Nell had watched both Deeks and Sam with Densi – only Callen had remained aloof. Even Eric had dutifully taken his turn. Well, things were about to change. She set her chin high with determination and Callen choked back a sigh. He knew what she was thinking and he really didn't want to go there.

"Uh oh." Nell bent over and took a good look at the baby. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

All Callen was thinking was how much he wanted this to be over with. A surreptitious look at his watch showed that over an hour had passed. Surely that was long enough?

Nell bent further over and sniffed loudly. "Oh boy. I thought so." She beamed at Callen. "There's a family changing room over there."

"I'll wait here."

"No way. You need to learn how to do this, Callen. You can't avoid it forever."

_Actually,_ Callen thought, _I can. I've avoided it for over forty years and I don't see why I should start now. Plus, I don't want to get peed on again. Or worse._

Nell was petite, but she was also tenacious. Taking a firm hold of Callen, she marched him towards the changing rooms. "It'll be much easier with two of us. You don't have to actually do anything – just hand me the wipes and the clean diaper." Truth be told, she was terrified. It was one thing pushing the stroller and pretending she was Densi's mother, but actually changing him? Suppose she did something wrong and hurt him? Something like that could scar him for life – mentally, if not physically. Oh God, supposing she really hurt him…

"I don't think I can do this," she confessed shamefacedly. "I've never actually changed a baby before."

"That makes two of us." Callen gave her a hug. "How about we just take him home and give his parents the pleasure?"

"But we promised to take him for the afternoon. The whole afternoon. We can't come running back just because he's got a dirty diaper."

"It does stink, doesn't it?" Even in the open air, the ripe aroma was rather overpowering.

"And it's not good for him to be left like that. Any minute now and he's going to start screaming."

They both peered anxiously at the baby, who gave a decided squirm. His eyebrows were still rather too fair to be noticeable, but they appeared to be coming together in a definite frown.

"Do you require some assistance?" Hetty enquired mildly. She'd been watching their performance from afar and had finally decided that she really couldn't let the poor child suffer any longer. How could two capable adults be reduced to such quivering wrecks by a small child?

"Yes. Yes we do." Callen had no qualms about resigning authority in this situation. "Take him and change him. Please."

"Change him into what? He's really rather sweet the way he is." Hetty smiled blandly at her agent.

"He's adorable, apart from the fact he has a full diaper and he stinks." There was no point in beating around the bush after all. Callen bent down and released Densi from the stroller and thrust him into Hetty's arms, slinging the diaper bag around her neck for good measure. Admitting defeat was fine. It felt like he was riding out of the valley of death with everything intact. Everything except his pride. But a man could live without pride, couldn't he?

"Such a fuss over such a tiny little thing." Shaking her head in disbelief, Hetty disappeared into the changing facility.

"I'm not ready for a baby," Nell said weakly. "There's too much that can go wrong."

"How about you just settle for being his favourite aunt?" _And that way I can be the cool uncle who takes young Densi out for fast drives in the car and listens when he moans about how embarrassing his parents are. Which is a given, seeing we're talking about Deeks here. _

"That sounds good." Nell turned her face up to his. "I've been a pain, haven't I? Banging on about babies and then I fall at the first hurdle."

"I never even made it out of the starting blocks," he confessed. "How about we just take things slowly?" They'd been together for four months now, a lifetime compared with Callen's previous all-time best on the relationship front. This time it felt different, like he was ready to settle down, maybe even to make a commitment. This time it felt real. And that was possibly the most frightening thing of all.

"That sounds good." Nell had the vision of a long evening spent under the stars and her heart did a small leap of joy. "But one day, probably years from now, I would like a baby, I think."

"How about we start small – maybe get a cat?"

"We'd have to be living together to do that," Nell said and then thumped him on the chest. "Callen, are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Only if you're going to say yes."

"To moving in or to getting a cat?"

"Either. But preferably both." There. He'd done it. And it hadn't been frightening at all.

"You do say the nicest things, Callen." A thought struck Nell. "Is it just me, or do you think Hetty was following us?" It ha been terribly convenient, the way she'd just materialised like that. And why would Hetty be strolling in a park full of parents and children? There had to be an ulterior motive. There usually was, as far as Hetty was concerned.

Callen looked nonplussed. "Why would she do something like that?" But Nell never got a chance to answer, because Hetty reappeared, looking as spic and span as ever, and carrying a baby who no longer created an automatic exclusion zone around himself.

"Hi there, Densi darling," Nell cooed and got a gummy smile in response. "Did you see that? He smiled at me!"

"Nonsense. That was wind." Hetty glared at her. "Understand this: a baby gives his first smile to his mother. That is a fact of life and more than that, it is an absolute rule. There are no exceptions to this rule. None at all. Do I make myself clear?" She shifted her steely glare down to Densi, who beamed happily back at her, secure in the knowledge he was the one person in the world who had Hetty wrapped right around his little finger, and tied in a bow into the bargain.

"Absolutely," Callen agreed. Women knew about these things, he realised, and as a mere man, who was he to argue? "So we can expect to hear the momentous news from Kensi in the next couple of days?"

"I wouldn't be at all surprised. Now, how about we get this young man home before his parents start missing him."

Callen gave her a sly smile. "I think they might be otherwise occupied."

Hetty gave a small snort. "And I think you have rather a lot to learn about women, Mr Callen. It'll take you a good hour to walk back, and by then Kensi will be pacing the floor."

"You want to put money on that?"

"Fifty dollars." Hetty gazed at him implacably. "Or are you frightened to put your money where your mouth is?"

"Fifty it is. Or how about we make it an even hundred?"

"A hundred it is." This was going to be like taking candy from a baby, Hetty thought. And she'd always been partial to candy.

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny is delighted that Callen and Nell are finally going to take the plunge. He's a romantic wee soul.<em>

_I have the delights of a full day in court tomorrow. Be still my beating heart. You know I'd much rather be writing more of this story..._


	8. Chapter 8

Nell smiled to herself as she pushed the stroller along the street and saw the curtains twitch at the living room window. Seconds later, the front door opened and Kensi came running down the path, her bare feet slapping of the ground, joy suffusing her face, and frantically holding the edges of her satin robe together. Impervious to the adults, she crouched down in front of the stroller and took hold of one tiny hand.

"Did you have a good time, Densi darling?" Unable to restrain herself any longer, she unfastened the harness and lifted him into her arms. "Oh, I missed you so much." There was nothing to compare with the feeling of holding your baby in your arms, feeling the way his little head fitted so perfectly into the crook of your neck, she thought and rocked him back and forth tenderly.

Deeks leant against the door, a broad grin on his face as he watched Kensi kissing the baby, who was gathering up the silky fabric of her robe and stuffing it into his mouth with rapt fascination. "He behaved for you?"

"He was a perfect little angel," Nell confirmed. She could see Callen's mouth opening and trod on his foot heavily.

"Diaper changing go okay?" It had not escaped Deeks' attention that his son was now wearing an entirely different outfit.

"Like a dream." _The kind of dream commonly known as a nightmare_. Callen took out his wallet and handed Hetty the money with a sigh. "I don't need to ask how your afternoon went. I just hope we didn't disturb anything important." He gave a disparaging look at Deeks, who was only wearing a pair of boxers and a tight fitting t-shirt, that barely covered his belly-button. "Didn't I see Kensi wearing that shirt last week?"

"Could be." Deeks was entirely unashamed. "You know how it is when you're in a hurry – and distrcted. You just grab the first thing that comes to hand. And somebody was missing the baby and telling me to hurry up. I didn't miss him, of course. I just enjoyed the peace and quiet." The way he was looking yearningly towards his son detracted somewhat from the blasé attitude and didn't fool Callen for one instant, despite the languid pose Deeks was adopting.

"Yeah. I can see that. So you wouldn't mind if we kept him for the evening? Maybe had a little sleep-over?" Callen ignored the choking noises Nell was making behind him.

"Maybe next week?" Deeks scratched his head abstractedly. "We'll definitely take you up on that offer… but maybe not right now. Someone needs a nap." He put one arm around Kensi, while the other one took a gentle hold of Densi's foot. A nuclear bomb could have gone off in the next street and Deeks would have been impervious.

"Exactly which member of the Deeks family was he referring to when he spoke about a nap?" Callen mused, as he watched them go back into the house and shut the door firmly. It looked as if Kensi and Deeks' sex life had well and truly been restored to full working order.

"I don't think it really matters." Hetty stood for a long moment, just looking at the house, before taking a deep breath and walking back to her car. "Enjoy the rest of the weekend – and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Nell linked her arm through his. "That gives us a pretty broad scope. How do you fancy going out to a club later on?"

Callen remembered the hundred dollars he'd just been relieved of and wondered how he could spin a quiet (and cheap) night in so that it sounded suitably romantic. Of course, they'd end up at a club, but he had to give it a shot. He had to t least put up a token protest, rather than immediately capitulating.

* * *

><p>"Oh my God!"<p>

Kensi came running through from the bedroom to find Marty standing staring down at his son in amazement.

"What's happened?" She took a look at the baby, who was lying buck naked on the changing table and kicking his legs in the air while his father gaped at him. "He get you again?" _You'd think you would have learned by now. But Densi does have a great aim. He's going to be a crack shot one day, I can tell._

"He smiled. He actually smiled at me." Reaching down, he picked up Densi and looked at him intently. "He looked right at me and he smiled, Kensi. Who's a clever boy to smile at his Daddy then?" It was the biggest high he could remember. Well, the biggest legal high.

"It was probably just wind." Kensi felt strangely cheated. _I carry you for nine months, I have this big scar right above my bikini line, I let you gnaw away at my boobs and my body is probably never going to be the same again – and you smile at him? His total contribution took seconds. You are so going to be a typical man, aren't you._

"It wasn't wind. It was a smile. Definitely a smile." Marty was dancing around the room now, laughing down st the baby in his arms. "And that was another one! Come on, you had to see that – didn't you?"

"I did!" Kensi stroked Densi's hair softly. "He was laughing at you, of course. Wondering who the big idiot is." _Traitor. Two smiles for Daddy and what does Mommy get? You're probably just working up to a really stinky diaper for me to change, aren't you?_

"Two smiles. Uh oh. You had to go and do that, didn't you?" Marty held Densi out at arms length, with a look of utter disgust on his face.

"He peed on you, didn't he?" Kensi couldn't help smiling. "You kind of asked for it, joggling him around like that and without a diaper." She grinned at her son and got a gummy smile in response. "And he's just smiled at me too." The odds were nicely evened back up. "Who's Mommy's clever boy then?"

* * *

><p>"Really? I don't think so."<p>

"Don't be a baby, Mr Deeks."

"I can hardly get the zipper up."

"Then maybe you should be getting a little more exercise."

"Hetty, these shorts give a new meaning to the word 'snug'. They're verging on the obscene."

The conversation had go to the point where they could bear no more, so Callen and Sam moved stealthily closer to the curtained-off area, irreverently named 'Hetty's dressing-up box' by Deeks – the same Deeks who was now being voluble about the costume she had decreed he wear for the operation at the sports injury clinic.

"Don't be such a baby. And thank your lucky stars you never wore skin-tight jeans before the invention of lycra. Why, I remember when you had to lie down on the floor and put a bootlace into the zipper in order to get your jeans closed. And then it was almost impossible to walk properly." Callen closed his eyes in horror and tried very hard not to think of Hetty being poured into a pair of drainpipe jeans.

"How about we give you a hand, Deeks?" Sam called out jovially and the curtain seemed to ripple in agitation.

Deeks' head popped out. "I can manage." There was a look of desperation on his face. "Unless you can find me another pair of tennis shorts? Preferably ones that don't cut my circulation off?"

"I've already told you, these ones are a nice fit. They showcase your not inconsiderable attributes to great advantage." Hetty was sounding more than a little pissed.

Callen could stand no more and pulled the curtain aside to take a look. "Okay. Those are certainly short shorts. Very short. And very tight fitting." He could feel his eyes start to water.

"Hetty says they're meant to be a tight fit." Deeks pulled ineffectively at the leg of the offending garment. "And they barely cover my ass." He craned his neck around for a better look in the mirror. The sight that greeted him was no more reassuring than it had been last time.

"Those shorts are beautifully tailored," Hetty chided.

"I kind of prefer comfort."

"Too bad." Hetty pulled out a pristine white shirt. "And no comments about the fit of this either, if you please. Just for the record, the cut is intended to showcase your muscles. And I saw you wearing a much smaller garment at the weekend."

"It's a good thing you've already had your family," Callen mused as Deeks pulled the shirt on over his head. "Because from the way those shorts are holding everything in, Densi's destined to be an only child."

"See? I told you they were too tight." Deeks' head emerged, looking rather more rumpled than normal and he pulled the t-shirt down.

"No, they're not too tight at all." Nell joined the group and tried not to let her jaw drop in admiration. "They're just perfect. And that shirt is perfect too. You look incredible. Kensi is going to be so happy when you come home tonight. Believe me." She gave Callen a disgusted look. "Why some people have to go around in sloppy clothes all the time is beyond me."

That was rather below the belt, Callen thought. The belt that did not pull his jeans up to cup his junk in anything like the way Deeks' shorts were doing. "How about comfort?" _Because those shorts look like torture. But, at the same time, they look good. I wonder if I could pull that look off._

"How about I'm a woman and to women 'comfort' and 'stylish' are mutually exclusive?" she parried. _Pity you'd never wear an outfit like that. It's the kind of thing women dream off. With Deeks looking like that, I could be tempted. I could be very tempted. Only Kensi would kill me, so better not go there, Nell._

Sam decided it was time to divert Nell's obvious wrath away from his partner. "Please tell me you're not going commando under those? Because it could get very embarrassing." He was going to have to work in the same place as Deeks after all, and there were some things he really didn't want to see.

"I supplied Mr Deeks with the appropriate undergarments. You need have no fear of that, Mr Hannah."

"Just as long as don't expect me to wear them next time around." You had to draw the line somewhere, after all.

"You've go bigger hips than me, Sam. And a bigger ass. So you're quite safe."

Funnily enough, Sam didn't really find that particularly consoling.

Callen pulled Deeks out onto the main floor. "How about you give us all a twirl, Deeks? Strut your stuff."

"Nell's got you watching 'Top Model', hasn't she?" _What is it with women and that show?_

"Oh yes." Callen had learned rapidly just to put up with the minor irritations and save his energy for the battles that really mattered, particularly as he wasn't about to win either. "Pity they don't have one for guys."

"Why – were you thinking of entering?" Deeks obeyed Sam's twirling finger and spun around slowly.

"No – I was thinking more about you getting an image makeover. Dear God." Callen gave Sam a desperate look.

"Hetty, you can't make Deeks go out there in those shorts. They're too… " Sam struggled to find the words and eventually just settled for the obvious. "Short. Short and revealing."

"Shealing?" Deeks suggested automatically and then wished he hadn't.

"I think you had it about right when you sad they were 'verging on the obscene'?" Callen admitted.

"I think you look lovely." Nell sighed in delight.

Deeks looked at himself in the mirror. "I think I'm going to regret this. I look like Malibu Ken."

"Only you're much better endowed." The words slipped out of Nell's mouth before she could stop them and a bright flush rose in her face. "Sorry. But it's true."

"I'm glad that at least one person can realise the _raison d'etre_ behind by choice of outfit." Hetty folded her arms and surveyed her agent with considerable satisfaction. "That will do very nicely, Mr Deeks. Very nicely indeed."

"If he does himself a mischief in those shorts, Kensi will hunt you to the ends of the earth," Sam warned and wondered what horrors Hetty had lined up for him to wear. He never normally hit woman, but if it came right down to squeezing his assets into an equivalent garment, then Hetty was going to have fight on her hands.

"Man whore," Callen hissed as Deeks bent over to put on his socks and trainers. The material was stretched almost to breaking point across his butt.

* * *

><p><em>Fear not. I have given evil plot bunny express instructions that Deeks' will not rupture himself. While I am rather partial to a nice maim, I have my limits.<em>


	9. Chapter 9

"The clinic have said they will provide you with your work uniform upon arrival, Mr Hannah," Hetty informed Sam. Being an astute judge of character, she had assessed the look in his eye and prudently decided that it was only prudent not to be around when he was introduced to the delights of his garb for the duration of the operation.

Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Hetty knew rather more than she was letting on. "Maybe they can also provide Deeks with an athletic support to protect his assets?" he suggested and hunched his shoulders up defensively.

"That was below the belt. Only you don't need a belt with those shorts, do you?" Callen was secure in the knowledge this was one operation that didn't require him to parade around in a uniform, although on the whole, he rather enjoyed assuming another personality. There was something about putting on a uniform, disguise – call it what you will – that appealed to his chameleon nature.

"Jealousy will get you nowhere. Hetty did tell you I'll be taking female clients, didn't she? Fit, athletic clients. The type of women who hone their bodies to the pinnacle of physical perfection. And I'll be giving them a tune-up…" The body-hugging shorts did nothing to stop a lascivious grin flitting across Deeks' face, although he did have to fight the temptation to pull the crotch down a little lower, as it was creeping rather too high for comfort. If it rode up much more he'd be singing soprano, or even falsetto.

"Don't forget, we'll be listening to every move you make, Mr Deeks," Hetty warned. "And you don't want any tales getting back to Ms Blye, do you?"

"I'm offended you'd even think such a thing." Besides which, the way these shorts were compressing his assets almost guaranteed that whatever he might think was going to remain sadly unfulfilled in reality. And given that reality involved Kensi waiting back at home for him, he rather wanted to remain not only in one piece but in full-working order. "It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it." He shrugged in a wholly unconvincing manner and followed Sam out.

"How come Deeks got this assignment?" The Mission seemed very empty without them, Callen thought. And he really didn't like the thought of Sam and Deeks being out there without any backup, only Hetty had been insistent that this was only an information gathering exercise.

"Because he fitted the profile." Hetty nodded and Eric started to flash up photographs onto the screen. "All the employees, past and present, seem to fit a certain type, wouldn't you agree?"

Callen could feel his eyes growing wide with surprise as more and more images filled the screen – all of tall, muscular young men, with fair hair and blue eyes. "Okay, that's officially creepy. It's like an invasion of surfers or something." _I know they say we've all got a double somewhere, but this is ridiculous. They could all be related._ The idea that there was more than one Deeks wandering around was strangely disconcerting.

Eric was just glad that the sports clinic hadn't required a computer analyst. His one and only foray into field work had not exactly left him desperate to repeat the experience. And given what had happened to a large number of these Deeks-clones, he was more than content to stay within the safety of the four walls of the Mission.

"They have rather a fast turnover of staff," Hetty continued. "And after they leave, a disturbing number of these young men just seem to disappear. For no apparent reason that I can determine – yet."

Eric keyed up a series of missing persons' reports, all of which remained open and unsolved. Callen was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this.

"Deeks does know about this, doesn't he?"

"Of course he does. I explained everything in great detail." And she'd made sure to get exact details of Deeks in return. It was no accident that those shorts fitted so well. They even took account of the fact that he dressed to the left. Hetty had remained her normal poised self during the procedure, although poor Mr Deeks had been uncharacteristically silent and indeed had seemed a little shell-shocked. "Your ankle," Hetty mused.

"What about it?"

"I noticed you seemed to be favouring it." She raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Perhaps it might be a good idea to get it checked out?"

Callen rotated his foot slowly and then winced theatrically. "Now you come to mention it, it has been bothering me. How about I go get some remedial massage?"

"What an excellent idea. Perhaps you might find somewhere with an appointment available tomorrow morning?"

"Perhaps I just might."

* * *

><p>It was nearly seven that evening when Sam limped in, tired and sweaty. "I'm going to kill her!" he vowed, sinking into his chair.<p>

"Polyester?" Callen said sympathetically, looking at the totally unnatural fibres Sam was sporting, in the form of black jogging pants and a short-sleeved zip-up top with a turtleneck in vibrant turquoise. You could almost see the sparks of static electricity his partner was generating. Still, at least it would wash easily enough.

"Polyester," his partner agreed. "I've been working in a steam room all day, wearing 100% polyester. I must have sweated off at least ten pounds. And my feet are killing me." He kicked off his shoes and Callen nearly gagged.

"Showers – now." Callen took a deep breath and pointed towards the shower room. He was almost sure there was some 'bio hazard' tape lying around somewhere and it would probably be a good idea to use it to mark off Sam's desk. "Deeks manage okay?"

The look on Sam's face said it all. "I was stuck in the steam room, remember? Do you have any idea how many old guys use a steam room? I've never seen so many man-boobs in my life. But when I got my half-hour mandated break, I saw some of the other clients. The female clients. And I'd say Deeks managed just fine, so don't bother wasting any sympathy on him."

Sam wasn't bitter. Not at all. But how come he came out of this reeking to high heaven while Deeks was driving home, fresh as a daisy in his natty little tennis whites?

* * *

><p>"Hi honey – I'm home!"<p>

"This is not the 1950s and I am not some suburban housewife, so don't get any ideas." Kensi's voice floated through from the kitchen.

"You mean you're not waiting to greet me with some cute little apron and a bright smile?" _Just an apron and a smile. Although a pair of high heels might be good too. But nothing else._

"I refused to buy the French maid's outfit on the grounds that it was sexist stereotyping, remember?"

"But you did get the _'Xenia – Warrior Princess'_ one," Marty recalled happily, dumping his sports bag in the hallway.

"That's because Xenia kicked butt. Literally and figuratively." Kensi took a good look at the vision before her and let out a low wolf-whistle. "Okay – that's a sight for sore eyes."

"Why do I get the definite idea you're only interested in my body?" Marty enfolded his wife and baby in a hug. "God, I've missed you both."

"I've only ever been interested in your body. I just tune out all the irritating babble and concentrate on the important things. Like how I think you should wear those shorts all day, every day." Kensi eased Densi into his arms so that she could let her hand pat his butt appreciatively.

"Now who's being sexist?" Marty cuddled the baby against himself and took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently.

"So I'm shallow?" Kensi shrugged. "So sue me." Her hand slipped underneath his shirt and roved up his back.

"I can think of things I'd rather do to you." Marty arched his back as Kensi's fingers toyed gently over his vertebrae. "How about you start by giving me a back rub, because I'm kind of seizing up after today?" Giving massages had to count as hard physical labour.

"I've got a better idea – why don't you go and soak in the tub before dinner, and then once Densi's down for the night I'll sooth all your aches and pains away?" Kensi's other hand slipped up inside the leg of his shorts and described a languid arc around his thigh.

"You have the greatest ideas. See Densi – Mommy's not just beautiful, she knows how to say all the right things." Pulling his shoulders back until his spine clicked into place, Marty started towards the hall. "I don't suppose there's any chance you might put on the Xenia outfit later on?" he asked hopefully.

"You never know your luck." Kensi had to admit that she got a huge kick out of watching his reaction when she slipped into that costume. And it was definitely less effort to get into (and out of again) than the PVC Catwoman outfit. But then, that did make her butt look ultra-incredible. So it was pretty much swings and roundabouts then. She finished the preparations for a quick stir fry, grabbed a couple of bottles of beer out of the fridge and went upstairs.

"Killing two birds with one stone, are we?" Sitting down on the toilet seat, Kensi watched her two boys sharing a bath together, and then started to laugh as Marty carefully moved a small duck slowly towards the fascinated baby, complete with sound effects. "I don't know who the bigger baby is – you or him."

"It's about equal, I think. There's plenty of room – why don't you join us?"

"No – I'm happy just watching you." Kensi leant back and sighed contentedly. If anyone had told her younger self that one day complete happiness would consist of sitting watching your husband and your baby sharing a bath together, she would have thought them certifiably mad. "You want to tell me how we got so lucky?

"Beats me." Marty handed the duck to Densi and pushed his damp hair out of his eyes. "You are happy then?"

"Happy? I'm ecstatic, you stupid, gorgeous, lovable man." Kensi dropped to her knees beside the bath and kissed him thoroughly, before picking up Densi and wrapping him in a towel. "And the sooner this one's in his crib, the sooner Mommy and Daddy can have some quality time together." She handed him a beer on the way out.

Marty let himself sink back into the water and then used his toes to turn on the tap and let some more hot water in. Hot water, hot wife and cold beer. Life didn't get much better than this. Only it was going to get a whole lot better, because the evening was just beginning. Those shorts hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

* * *

><p><em>There is only one thing better than Deeks in those tight, white shorts - and that is wet, soapy, completely naked Deeks...<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_What follows is pure self-indulgence and highly gratuitous. No change there then. Hey, it's Friday after all, and I had two mind-numbing days of sitting in court this week, so I reckon I deserve this. And so do you!_

* * *

><p>Normally, they ate most meals in the kitchen, but tonight Kensi had pulled out all the stops and was using the dining room. The table was laid with a snowy white cloth and the room shimmered with the soft glow from a dozen candles.<p>

"Wow. You've really pulled out all the stops." Marty picked up the bottle of wine, read the label and let out a low whistle. "Okay – what's the occasion?" He frantically ran through dates in his mind, wondering what he missed. _No, it's not her birthday, and it's not our wedding anniversary either. It's not even the anniversary of the day we got engaged. It was actually a really good idea to propose on thanksgiving, because I won't ever forget that date._ Marty conveniently ignored the fact that Thanksgiving moved from one year to the next. _And it's definitely not my birthday, not unless I've lost a couple of months. What the hell have I forgotten?_

"There's no special occasion," Kensi said sweetly, which made him instantly suspicious.

_It's one of these anniversaries only women understand, isn't it? Like the day we first met, or our first date. And exactly what was our first date? I think we slept together about twenty times before we actually went out somewhere together. Crap. That sounds really bad, doesn't it? We're going to have to think of some convincing story to tell Densi when he's old enough, otherwise it's going to sound like we just looked at each other one day and then pulled each other's clothes off and had mad, passionate sex. Which is actually what happened. Four times. We are so sunk. How can we tell him that? Still, we've got a few years to come up with a different version of events. And we're good at making up backstories. We actually get paid for lying, after all._

"No reason – you're sure?" Marty tried hard not to sound panicked and wasn't entirely sure that he'd been successful.

"I just thought we should spend some proper time together. Things have been a bit chaotic around here." _And Nell sent me a photo she'd taken on her cell this morning. Damn, you looked fine in those shorts! And I bet all the women at the clinic thought so too. Not that I think you'd actually do anything – but still… _

"It's great. Kind of like a date night, or something." _God, that sounded lame. What are you Deeks – sixteen?_

He poured the wine and noticed Kensi had put out the wedding crystal. And the best china and silverware. Plus, she'd changed and was wearing this silky sort of blouse with a really low-cut neckline – and no bra. "I would have dressed up a bit more if I'd realised." All of a sudden, the casual, loose-fitting linen pants and well-washed t-shirt he'd flung on after the bath seemed pretty hopeless. _Why do you have to be such a slob all the time, Deeks? Look at all the effort Kensi's gone to here, and you come ambling in like you couldn't even be bothered._

"You look fine." _You look damn fine. You look good enough to eat, the way those pants cling to your ass. And you're not wearing any underwear, which is even better. I love the way you look like you've just rolled out of bed, because it makes me want to get you right back into bed._

The candles made her eyes sparkle more than ever and Marty wondered what the hell he'd ever done to deserve Kensi in his life. His biggest nightmare was the thought of losing her, the thought that one day she might simply shrug and tell him it was all over. And now there was Densi to add into the equation. _God, I've really got to start making more of an effort, not just taking her for granted. _"New jeans?" he asked casually when she brought the first course through.

"No, quite the reverse." Kensi patted her stomach with a satisfied smile. "Old jeans. _My_ old jeans."

"Old as in 'pre-pregnancy' old?" His mouth was suddenly quite dry as he took in the delectable sight of her ass, snugly encased in taut denim, and the way her legs seemed to go on forever and a day. "Wow. And double wow. Wow, wow, wow." _I'm so superficial. But hey – I'm a man. God, you look so fit, Kensi. _Marty took a large mouthful of wine, followed by another.

"You approve?" _Those yoga classes Freya recommended were definitely worth it. Even if I did discover how out of shape I've got. _

"Definitely." Suddenly Marty had lost his appetite – for food, but definitely not for Kensi.

Result! Kensi was absurdly gratified to see the result her quick outfit change before dinner had created. Mind you, walking around wearing the unmistakable aroma of baby-sick probably wasn't the most romantic thing for a man to come home to, and even if you did get used to the smell of stale milk after a while it wasn't quite as erotic as a dab of Shalimar on the pulse points. Now, if only she could keep this up – she could slob around during the day, because Densi didn't care what she was wearing.

"Just wait till you see what I've got lined up to change into after dinner," she said sweetly and then had to dash around the table to thump her husband on the back as he choked on a crouton from the Caesar salad.

"Xena?" he asked feebly, after a large gulp of water.

"That would be telling." Kensi cleared away the plates and sashayed out of the room, well aware that Marty's eyes were firmly glued to her ass. What a pity they were having seared tuna fish and stir fried vegetables next, because poultry would have been so much more apt. When it came to showcasing one's assets, what was sauce for the goose was definitely sauce for the gander.

* * *

><p>"I never thought when we bought this table we'd be using it for this." Not that Marty was complaining. Quite the reverse, in fact. He was just grateful they'd bought a chunky, Mission-style table, because while a more delicate piece of furniture might have taken his weight lying down, it was doubtful if it would also have coped with Kensi standing over him, one leg on either side of his hips.<p>

"Quiet." She let the tip of her sword press down lightly on his chest. _God, I love wearing this outfit. It makes me feel so powerful – like I could do anything._

"If you move just a couple of inches, I can see right up your skirt," he offered, eyes shining with gleeful anticipation. _Do you know how much I love you in that outfit? You can do whtever you want with me._

"Do I have to make you be silent?" Kensi moved the sword blade so that it rested just below his Adam's apple.

"Yeah. I've got kind of a big mouth. All the better to kiss you with."

"You can't mix up fairy tales with Greek legends!" Kensi complained, kneeling down.

Marty gulped as he saw what the corset did to her breasts as she bent forward. "Want a bet?"

"Shut up and kiss me," Kensi growled, in full Xena-mode

Well, that was an invitation no sane man in possession of his faculties was going to refuse. Her mouth tasted like wine and roses and the things her tongue did just about drove Marty mad.

"Exactly why am I wearing gold lame shorts?" he asked a while later.

"Rocky," Kensi said succinctly, being rather preoccupied with covering his chest with kisses. And if there was absolutely no correlation between Xena and Rocky – who the hell cared? This was her fantasy, after all and since when did fantasies have to make sense?

Marty shook his head in confusion. "Since when were you into boxing?" _Please tell me I don't look anything like Sly Stone? Or that you fancy him._

"Rocky Horror."

"Oh - okay." It was starting to make sense, in a weird kind of way. It was probably a good thing the curtains were drawn and all the doors were locked. "That works for me."

"It definitely works for me." Nevertheless, Kensi felt it was high time those shorts were discarded. This was going to be just like unwrapping the best Christmas present ever. "You never asked what was for pudding," she complained.

"I kind of thought that was you," he confessed. _You're the sweetest thing I could dream of._

"So you couldn't possibly fancy any ice cream?" She had the most deliciously evil smile Marty had ever seen in his life and he had a flashback to being fed ice-cream in bed…

"Maybe you could tempt me?" _You can always tempt me. Any time of the day or night. Just say the word. Or don't say anything at all – just look at me like that._

"How about I do just that?"

"How about you do?" Sometimes, the added memory of history made the anticipation even better. And Marty had no doubt that the evening was just beginning. Because after the ice cream would come all the delightful complications of easing Kensi out of that tight corset and peeling off her leather skirt and slowly unlacing her sandals. No, on second thoughts, he might leave the sandals on. Just because. That was a good reason, wasn't it? Probably the best reason in the world.

Kensi came back in with a large tub of ice cream, one spoon and a blindfold.

"I can't trust you not to cheat," she said solemnly.

"Yeah, I can be bad."

"It's when you're bad that I love you most." _And ain't that the truth?_

"Being good is definitely overrated."

"Except for us." Kensi was suddenly seized with doubts. Was it mad to think their relationship could continue in the same way as before? Was she just fooling herself? Was Marty just humouring her?

"Except for us. We're good, Kensi. We're golden. Because you're the best." _How come things just get better and better?_ Marty thought about that for a moment and then decided that sometimes you just had to accept that you were a lucky bastard and work damn hard to make sure you stayed lucky. Because there were some things you couldn't leave to chance and there was no way he was going to get complacent. The memory of how close he'd come to loosing Kensi was still too fresh in his mind to ever risk that happening again. "Baby, you're the best," he whispered into her ear.

Kensi got back onto the table and wrapped her arms around him and then folded her legs around his waist, so that he was totally enveloped by her embrace. "And nobody does it half as good as you."

Monday nights were never going to be the same again.

* * *

><p><em>Observant readers will note that slushy and randy plot bunnies have joined forces. And you know what that means... evil plot bunny is bound to be plotting something. A maim, perchance? Something worse? I haven't killed anyone for ages and ages...<em>


	11. Chapter 11

"How much longer are we going to continue with this charade?" Sam was well and truly fed up with being undercover in the clinic. "It's been two weeks now, and we've learned precisely nothing." Except that sweat and polyester did not mix well together. He was chafing in places he'd really rather not think about.

"On the positive side: my hands have never been so soft with all that massage oil." Deeks stretched out his fingers and admired them with a certain degree of complacency. "And we have learned a few useful things, Sam."

"All strictly minor league stuff. We've got nothing directly allied to terrorism. And that makes it a bust in my eyes." So there had been a few leads they'd passed on to LAPD, who got some busts out of it. So what?

"There's enough players going in and out on a daily basis." Callen pulled up the surveillance footage and saw half a dozen names that ran warning bells in his head. "You should have been able to uncover something by now." The intell. had been solid, and all the indications were that the clinic was definitely the centre of some sort of network – so why was there no solid evidence? He cocked his head enquringly at Deeks.

"Don't look at me. All my girls seem to talk about is tennis, waxing and parties. You want I should get myself invited to one of those parties? Maybe we could play a little tennis, followed by some waxing? Me waxing them, not the other way around." It seemed important to make the distinction.

"Down, boy," Callen advised. "Although that's actually not a bad idea. Maybe you need to advertise you've got services for hire, outwith the clinic?" The more he thought about it, the better an idea it all seemed. "A little freelance massage might just do the trick."

"Do I get to keep anything I make?" The look on Hetty's face said it all, but it had seemed worth a shot, he thought.

"You will still be on duty, Mr Deeks. And as for your own lack of success Mr Hannah, perhaps you ought to try a little harder?" she suggested. "Might I suggest that you try to fade into the background or try to assume a more sympathetic pose that invites confidences?"

"Or he could moonlight as a bodyguard – a bit of extra muscle where it's needed?" That seemed much more plausible, Callen thought. It was hard to imagine Sam managing to be unobtrusive, given that his height and build predicated against that possibility.

Deeks sneaked a look at his watch. "Can I go and get changed now? Kensi's coming over to pick me up and we're going out to dinner."

"What about the rug rat?" Callen already had plans for the evening: plans he had absolutely no intention of changing. Baby-sitting featured nowhere on his radar and for once he was not about to be persuaded by Nell.

"Auntie Hetty's taking care of that."

"Auntie Hetty?" Sam quirked an eyebrow. It was small revenge for her earlier remarks, but it made him feel a whole lot better.

"Aunt Henrietta seemed rather too much of a mouthful for such a small person," Hetty said tartly. "Perhaps you could offer to lead some of your ladies in a yoga retreat, Mr Deeks?"

"Yoga? You do yoga, Deeks?"

There was something about the tone of Sam's voice that set him on the defensive. "I do yoga. It's a great way of meeting women. Maybe you should try it sometime?" Satisfied that barb had hit home, Deeks went to get changed on the other side of the Mission.

Hetty continued as if they had never spoken. "A yoga retreat, in suitable surroundings, might just encourage some confidences. We'd have to find a suitable location, of course. Somewhere secluded, peaceful…"

"And with a hot tub?" Callen suggested, as Deeks was now on the other side of the Mission, getting changed. "Just to get him in the mood."

"Scrub the hot tub," Sam advised. "Deeks doesn't need any help in that direction."

Callen clapped his hands over his ears. "Too much information. Way too much information. And don't let Kensi hear you say that."

"Don't let Kensi hear you say what, Callen?" Kensi asked, with a certain tone in her voice.

_Damn, she's getting to be like Hetty, creeping around like a ninja. I wonder how much she heard?_ "That Deeks is going to take his ladies away for some one-on-one attention," he prevaricated, knowing that would go down about as well as a fart in an elevator.

"Oh, is he?" Digesting this unwelcome news, Kensi shifted Densi in her arms and looked around for her husband.

"On a yoga retreat," Callen amplified, aware that he appeared to be digging himself a large hole. "But don't worry, it's not about Deeks anyway."

"It's all about the ladies," Sam added, less than helpfully. "They can't resist a man with tight buns in short shorts strutting his stuff around the place. It's like a dream come true for Deeks – just him and a whole bunch of hot bodies just begging for his personal services. We'll make sure he gets all his shots first." His attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears.

Kensi's eyes blazed with fury as she shoved a highly surprised Densi into Callen's arms and strode towards the curtained cubicles where her husband was changing out of his work clothes. "What the hell are you thinking, Marty? Setting up some personal sex camp or something?"

"Really? You think I'd do something like that?" Deeks yanked the curtain aside and shot a look of disgust at the team. "Thanks a lot, guys." He was tired and he'd been looking forward to dinner all day and now everything was ruined. Suddenly, he was the bad guy in all this and he wasn't quite sure how that had happened.

Kensi stood with her hands on her hips. "You want to tell me what this is about?"

"How about work? Remember the operation I've been undercover on for weeks?" He stared right back at her. "And the fact that this is on Hetty's say so. How does that work for you?"

"It doesn't. Not in the slightest." Kensi turned and glared at Hetty. "Exactly what are you trying to do here?"

"I'm trying to get vital information, any way I can. And you're not helping, Ms Blye."

"How come this is all my fault all of a sudden?" Kensi couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was bad enough that for two weeks her husband had been spending all day, every day, running his hands over some of the hottest bodies in town, but now Hetty was sending him away with them? Was she the only person who saw something wrong with this picture?

"If you'd just calm down and listen, you'd realise it's nobody's fault." Callen felt it was time to pour a little oil on troubled waters.

"Why don't you just butt out?" Kensi snapped. "I think you've said more than enough already. And don't hold my baby like he's a football. Don't you know anything?"

Clearly, when it came to this, he didn't. But Callen did know enough to keep his mouth shut and his face schooled to impassivity.

Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Kensi was not exactly in the sunniest frame of mind and that he might just have made things worse, however inadvertently. He mouthed 'baby blues' at Hetty, who immediately nodded sagely. Unfortunately, their communication was intercepted by Kensi.

"I can lip read, remember? And I am not depressed – I'm mad."

_No shit, Sherlock. How about you tell me something I don't know?_ Hetty thought.

Deeks came out, stuffing his shirt into his pants. "How about you and I go for that meal and we can talk about things?" He'd planned tonight so carefully, and it was all going horribly wrong.

"How about you take one of your ladies?" The last thing Kensi felt like doing was sitting in some overpriced restaurant, picking at her food.

There were limits, and he was close to them. "Trust me here, Kensi. You're the one I come home to each night."

"Wow. That's big of you. You say it like I'm supposed to be grateful or something. Well, don't bother. And don't bother coming home tonight either." _You say it like you're doing me a favour. How'd you like to be stuck home all day with someone who can't even speak, while I go work with a bunch of studs wearing next to nothing? Me and them?_

"Give me one good reason why I'd want to come home, with you in a mood like that?"

"Fine."

"Good."

They stood for several seconds before Deeks made one final desperate attempt. "This is ridiculous. You're not mad at me."

"Actually, I am." Kensi turned on her heel, collected her son from Callen's nerveless arms and stalked out.

"Don't say a word." Deeks sat down at his desk. "Don't anybody say anything: you've all said more than enough." His head fell into his hands, and his fingers clutched frantically at his hair.

Complete silence descended. Eventually, Callen plucked up the courage to break it. "Aren't you going to go after her?"

"I know where she's going." Deeks didn't look up.

"That's not answering the question."

"Tough." He gathered his things together. "How about you set up the arrangements for the yoga retreat, Hetty? I'll call a few of my ladies."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Mr Deeks?"

"Not really. But it's our best chance, isn't it?"

Sam put out his arm to stop him. "It might not do your own chances much good though."

Deeks gave him a wry look. "Story of my life, Sam." He walked outside without looking back.

If they thought the worst was over, they were sadly disappointed. Hetty was looking at them, with a face like fizz. "I'll talk to you two gentlemen on Monday," was all she said, but the tone left no room for misinterpretation.

"Beer?" Sam asked.

Callen shook his head. "Whiskey," he said succinctly. You got drunk faster on whiskey.

* * *

><p>Kensi sat in the darkness, wondering what the hell had happened back at the Mission. One minute she was all ready for an evening out, the next minute she was seeing red and ruining everything. Why did everyone think it was so funny that Marty was going to be cloistered away with a group of women who probably already had their tongues hanging out every time they clapped eyes on him in those shorts? She didn't even want to consider the possibility that there might be something going on that she didn't know about, but it kept gnawing away at her guts. In his car seat, Densi gurgled happily away to himself, and Kensi felt a familiar twinge of regret. She loved her child – positively adored him and there wasn't a thing she wouldn't do to protect him. And she loved being with him – only now she was never completely herself anymore, there was always this little person tagging along too. And, if she honest, she missed work. She really, really missed it. Only how could she leave Densi? Why had nobody told her motherhood was going to be so hard?<p>

The sound of a slamming door aroused Kensi out of her reverie and she looked up to see Marty striding across to his car, flinging his bag into the back seat and driving off in a scream of rubber. "I guess we'd better go home," she said to Densi, watching as Marty signalled to turn in the opposite direction of their house. What other choice did she have? It was almost time for another feed, and after that came a story and then bed. Having finally got the baby into a routine, the last thing she wanted to do was to break it, even if her heart was crying out to follow Marty. Only now Densi had to come first.

Back at the house, Kensi waited up as long as possible, until her eyes were heavy with weariness before finally conceding that he wasn't going to come back. Nevertheless, she left the porch light on – just in case. One last check of her cell phone showed there were still no messages and Kensi went upstairs with a heavy heart, pausing only to check on Densi, who was lying on his back, sound asleep and with an air of peace and innocence she envied.

"What are we doing to you?" Kensi asked with a break in her voice, as she bent over to kiss Densi goodnight. She felt like her heart was about to burst with sorrow when she saw how like Marty he looked. "You don't deserve this. You really don't."

"We'd better make sure it doesn't happen again then, hadn't we?"

She whirled around to see Marty standing awkwardly in the hall, the light silhouetting him from behind, so that it was impossible to see the expression on his face, just shadows obscuring the familiar planes.

"You came back," Kensi breathed, rooted to the spot and unable to move. Her heart was hammering so loudly she was surprised it didn't wake the baby up.

"I couldn't stay away." Marty shrugged, still unsure of the situation. Sometimes it was like standing on shifting sands and constantly being wrong-footed. But that was the honest, unvarnished truth. No matter what, this was home. It was where he belonged.

"I'm glad." Kensi took a step forward, and then halted, as Marty remained stock-still. "Are you staying?" She wasn't sure of anything anymore – except for the fact that she wished she could rewind time and start all over again.

"Do you want me to?" Marty raised his head and for the first time Kensi could see the hurt in his eyes and, more than that, could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

She nodded, reached out and ran her fingers down the side of his face. "Oh yes. Now and for always. I've never wanted anything quite so badly." Kensi bit her lip. "And I'm so sorry about everything I said back there. Of course I trust you – it's all those other women I don't trust." _Because I look at you and I want you so badly. And I wonder what you see in me._

"Tell me how I can prove you're the only woman for me – please? Just let me know how I can show you how much I love you?"

Kensi couldn't bear the uncertainty and raw fear in his voice. And she definitely couldn't bear it when he produced a bunch of marguerites. The tears started to well up in her eyes and she found that she was quite incapable of speech.

"Do you have any idea how long I had to drive around for before I found a flower-shop that was still open?" he asked. It had been getting to the point where he'd seriously been considering raiding private gardens.

"You remembered." The first flowers he'd given her had been daisies._ He loves me, he loves me not… I love him for all time._

"How could I forget?" _You're in my heart and in my head. You're engraved on my soul. I'll never get over loving you, Kensi._

Marty held out the daisies and as Kensi took them, the scent floated upwards, so that she was transported back to another evening, and a room full of candles and the feeling of complete and utter contentment that came with the security of knowing you were loved.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" she asked, and although she was still crying, the tears had changed to ones of joy.

_Not really. I've been able to believe anyone would love me._ But this wasn't the time for such a confession. So instead Marty took her in his arms, kissed her and said, "How about you show me?"

There would probably never be a right time for such a confession. But that was okay. He wasn't exactly ready to crack open his past and explore the darkness. It was safer to keep that door shut: shut and padlocked and hidden behind a curtain.


	12. Chapter 12

"You've got everything?" Kensi asked, for the seventh time that morning.

"I've got everything." Marty was no keener to leave than she was to see him go. Last night he'd brought Densi into bed with them and they had lain there, with the baby snuggled safely in between them, holding hands and talking about all their dreams for him: how he would be tall and strong and happy and how he would always know how much he was loved. "It's only for a few days."

"I know." Kensi smiled and then picked up Densi. "Go and give your Daddy a big hug, darling."

They'd spent a long weekend talking, trying to shore up one another, trying to work out how two damaged people could help each other to heal. And each conversation had ended the same way – in a slow, languid celebration of their love, reaffirming the fact that there was no-one else, that there never could be anyone else. And they hung onto to the memory of that, just as they had literally clung onto one another.

Marty took Densi into his arms and almost changed his mind there and then. One of the worst things about going undercover was the way you had to leave all traces of your real life behind. There could be no photographs of his son or his wife, and even the IPod in his jacket pocket was filled with someone else's music. Marty Deeks had ceased to exist, and Scott Hardy had taken his place. So the best thing that Marty could do was to try to fix every detail of Densi in his mind, from the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, to the way his face would light up and the gurgling chuckle that was possibly the sweetest sound in the world. For one last time he felt the baby-soft skin, the wispy downiness of his hair and inhaled the sweet scent of his skin. "You be a good boy for Mommy, okay?" Handing him back felt like a betrayal.

"We'll be fine," Kensi said. "And we'll be right here, waiting for you." She fixed a bright smile on her face and then stood on the driveway and watched as he drove away. "Looks like it's you and me then, kiddo." It was a good thing she had the baby relaxation class at eleven this morning, followed by lunch with one of her new friends. And afterwards she had a pile of laundry to do while Densi napped, so there would be little time to worry. Not that there was any reason to worry. As long as she kept telling herself that, Kensi knew she would be fine. And so would Marty. "You just be careful, Marty Deeks," she whispered. "Because I swear I'll kill you if you get hurt again. And don't bother to enjoy yourself too much." And then she yelped out loud with pain as Densi grabbed a handful of hair and pulled with surprising strength.

* * *

><p>"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Mr Deeks." It was still early enough in the morning for the Mission to be almost empty. Hetty had grown accustomed to catching up with her never-ending paperwork before people started to filter in. "To what do I owe this honour?" She took a sip of tea and steeled herself for the worst.<p>

"I need you to look after this for me." He held a parcel, labelled with Kensi's name, but Hetty kept her hands clasped firmly in her lap.

"Should I ask what it contains?" She looked at him carefully, as if seeing him for the first time, taking in the unusually neat hair and clean shaven face, the crisply pressed chinos and immaculate polo shirt. Already he had changed into his new persona and there was hardly anything of the Marty Deeks she knew left in the man that sat before her. Except for the look in his eyes. The same look she'd seen when she sat beside his hospital bed and told him his father was dead – the look of a man with nothing to lose, and yet conversely the man who already lost everything.

"Probably not. It's kind of private." Marty saw the apprehension on her face. "Everything's fine, Hetty. Really. This is just in case I'm not here on Thursday. In which case I'm asking youto give it to Kensi then, with my love. With all my love. And you tell her I'll be back to collect in person. She'll understand."

Hetty looked at her calendar and smiled as she recognised the significance of the date. "In that case, it would be my pleasure." She put the parcel into her desk drawer and then locked it. "I'll keep it here for you, shall I? Just until you return. And then you can give it to her person. Just don't be late." She cocked her head to one side inquiringly, and was relieved when he managed a smile.

"I'll do my best. Thanks." Marty stood up and held out his hand. "Thanks for everything, Hetty."

"But I haven't done anything yet," she protested.

"You've done enough." She'd done pretty much everything that had led his life to this stage, Marty thought. Somehow, Hetty had manoeuvred him into NCIS, which had introduced Kensi into his life. She'd even managed to make him face the past he'd kept hidden away so successfully for all these years. And now he was no longer alone, with no-one to put down as next of kin except his de facto boss. Now he finally had a family of his own. Maybe when he came back from this mission, he'd finally be able to talk about his father. It was probably time to put those demons to rest.

"And I will continue to do what I can. Starting by having a rather necessary little conversation with your colleagues." She'd been preparing a speech all weekend, one that would flay the skin of most men.

Marty shook his head. "It's not the time. And it's not worth it. Just leave it."

"You're sure?" In a strange way, Hetty had been looking forward to the showdown. But she respected the way her agent just shook his head. Only he wasn't her agent. Not yet. She'd tried everything in her power to persuade him to join NCIS, but that stubborn streak just made him dig his heels in, despite the fact that he fitted in so perfectly to the team, just as she had always known he would. _You were wasted in LAPD. This is where you belong. And I hope you realise that before too long._

"I'm sure." He leant back across the desk and whispered "Look after Kensi for me."

"It will be my pleasure." For a moment, Hetty thought he was going to kiss her cheek, but she was mistaken, for he took a step back and the shutters fell down over his face, resuming the mask that hid his emotions.

"I'll be seeing you then." He knew that she would be watching and waiting, just as she always had, since the day she approached him in that bar. For the first time, Marty wondered if Hetty had been watching him for a long time before that. _Once this whole gig is over, you and I are going to have to sit down and have a long overdue chat about things, starting with the late and unlamented Gordon John Brandel._ He'd always suspected that Hetty knew rather more about his background than he'd ever let on.

"I'll be waiting, Marty." Her words fell upon empty walls, for he had already gone. "And be careful," she added. Hetty had never got used to sending an agent out alone, never got over the vague feeling of unease about the lack of immediate backup, and the day that she did was the day Hetty Lange would tender her resignation and walk out without looking back.

Marty walked out into the bright sunshine and winced as his eyes protested at the harsh light. In the distance he could see Callen and Sam arriving into the parking lot, car-pooling once again. But he didn't feel like talking, he just wanted to get this whole undercover operation over and done with so that he could go back to his old life – and most of all, go back to his wife and son

"One of these days you're going to have to learn to say 'no', Deeks," he vowed and then drove away without looking back.,

"Looks like Deeks isn't in a talkative mood this morning." Sam looked at the extra cup of coffee he'd bought as a token peace offering. "You want to share a triple shot grande latte, G?"

They slunk into the Mission in the manner of men who do not wish to draw attention to themselves, and Hetty suppressed a smile as she watched them sidle as unobtrusively as possible up to their respective desks like naughty schoolboys, before burying themselves in paperwork. Clearly she would have to threaten them with reading the riot act rather more often. As it was, she decided to let them stew a little longer, purely because they were being so industrious, and she was loath to break their concentration.

Callen was soon thanking his lucky stars that they'd bought that extra coffee, because catching up on the best part of two months' worth of reports was not exactly the most scintillating of ways to pass a Monday morning. If he ducked his head down and to the left, he could just manage to see Hetty sitting at her desk, sitting as immobile and as unreadable as the Sphinx.

"_She's making us sweat it out,"_ he typed and sent the email to Sam, who grimaced and started typing a response.

"_Cruel and unusual treatment,"_ Kensi read out Sam's response in a clear voice. "Is sending emails the modern equivalent of passing notes behind the teacher's back?" she asked rhetorically.

"Hetty's been teaching you her ninja tricks, hasn't she?" Callen asked, once he'd recovered his breath. _How the hell did you manage to creep up behind me like that?_

"No need. I'm a mother now, remember? I've learned to move as silently as a shadow passing across the face of the moon when Densi's asleep." She looked at their faces. "Come on – that was pretty poetic."

"It was," Sam informed her. "Which was why it sounded so funny coming out of your mouth." He took a good look at her. "Okay – what's wrong with this picture? Not only doesn't it sound like you, there's something missing."

"Deeks, with his tongue hanging out?" Callen offered, noticing Kensi was wearing a pair of jeans that clung to her like a second skin. "Nice to have you back, by the way."

Kensi pulled out her chair and sat down. "Thanks. It's good to be back."

"Okay – what have you done with the baby?" Sam looked around as if he expected to see Densi reposing in a handy filing tray, or perhaps carrying out an impromptu audit of the stationery cupboard.

"Oh, I left him," Kensi said airily and watched the twin looks of horror cross their faces. "In a nursery, you idiots. And just for a couple of hours." She tried to look and sound as nonchalant as possible, but her stomach was doubling over on itself as she remembered walking out and leaving her baby all alone, with complete strangers. She'd never felt so guilty in her entire life. And while it was great to be back here, a part of her was missing Densi so much that it actually hurt. He was so little and he needed his Mommy and Daddy. And now that Daddy was away, he needed Mommy even more and she'd abandoned him. In her mind, Kensi could see her son, small face crumpled and stained with tears as he howled out his misery. That was it – she was going straight back to collect him and…

"How nice to see you back, dear. Easing yourself in gently, are you? How very wise. Perhaps we could have a cup of tea and a chat?" Hetty kept talking as she led Kensi over to her desk and busied herself preparing a fresh pot of tea.

"_Close escape,"_ Sam typed and watched as his partner nodded sagely. He deleted the message thread. Some people might have said he was being paranoid, but then they had never worked with Hetty. You simply couldn't be too careful where she was concerned.

"We keep back-up tapes, you know," Hetty informed Kensi, seemingly a propos of nothing. "Every keystroke is logged. You can never actually erase anything you create on a computer. It's always there, somewhere. You just have to know where to look." It was inordinately satisfying to see how the two men cringed as they registered her words.

"We need to speak to Eric," Callen mouthed.

"Lip reader – remember?" Kensi called out. "And they say it's women who have problems with short-term memory." She sat down opposite Hetty and took a sip of tea. "This is wonderful."

"Chamomile – it's very soothing." Hetty regarded her solemnly over the rim of her bone china cup. "I think we'll let them stew a little longer, don't you?"

"Why not keep them simmering at a gentle heat for the rest of the day?" Kensi suggested, slightly heartlessly, remembering the jibes from before the weekend. "Give them a taste of their own medicine?."

"Why not, indeed?" Hetty did love it when she found a kindred spirit.

* * *

><p><em>Evil plot bunny is sitting in the corner with a decided smirk on his face. He's up to something, I know he is...<em>


	13. Chapter 13

_It is completely co-incidental that this is chapter 13..._

_Readers of a nervous disposition may not wish to proceed any further. _

_Those who like a nice maim are going to be rubbing their hands in joy. As one dear corresondant said "you can't have a Maxie Kay story without a good maiming"._

_Oh - and congratulations to Eric Christian Olsen and Sarah Wright on their engagement._

* * *

><p>Kensi managed to pass the next hour pleasantly enough, catching up with a few people and indulging in the ever-delightful subject of talking about the endlessly fascinating Densi. And if there was a slightly glazed look in her victim's eyes after she'd shown them the myriad of photographs on her cell phone, then that was surely due to the long and stressful hours working for NCIS entailed. By the time she looked at her watch, it was time to leave to go to pick up her son and she'd got through the first proper separation – and was still sane. <em>I can do this. I don't have to be Wonder Woman – I just have to be me.<em>

Still, she knew now that probably the biggest satisfaction in her life came not from the successful conclusion of an operation, but from seeing Densi's face light up with pleasure and endearing way he would hold his arms out for a hug. Everything had changed, and her life was immeasurably better for it. Maybe she really could have her cake and eat it? Now, if only she could share her slice of that cake with Marty, then life would be perfect. But there were only another couple of days to get through. He would be home by Thursday: he'd promised.

"How about I come back in again on Wednesday?" she suggested. Well, she'd started this, so why not continue? And it was good to be back, it was good to be Kensi again instead of Mommy. All she had to do was to work out how she could be both Kensi and Mommy.

"I'll be expecting you." Hetty had been wondering if Kensi would come back to work, and although it wasn't going to be easy, it looked as if things were going to work out. Things were difficult enough for working parents, without the extra demands of working for NCIS, but if anyone could make it work, it would be Kensi and Marty. All they needed was a sympathetic boss and the support of their team mates for the first few weeks. And she was determined to make sure they got that.

"Mr Callen? Mr Hannah? I think it is time we all had a conversation, don't you?" She relished the twin looks of apprehension, and wondered if it would be a sad disappointment when they discovered she only wanted to query a few items on their expense accounts.

* * *

><p>The first night was the worst, just as Kensi had known it would be. After barely having spent a night apart in almost three years, the bed felt far too big without the familiar, warm presence of Marty. It felt so wrong to reach out and only encounter empty space where there should be a receptive body craving her touch, responding to it and pulling her into an embrace. It wasn't just the bed – the whole house felt so empty without him. What was worse was that Densi had picked up on the unsettled atmosphere, refused to take half his night-time bottle and then grizzled unhappily until he finally fell asleep through exhaustion. Kensi lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to stop her mind running back over all the years, all the memories. The y were so real, so vivid, as if each tiny detail of their lives together was etched into her brain.<p>

_You must have been mad to take up with me_, she thought, remembering the first few weeks, the way she had resisted and then capitulated and then pulled away again_. I must have driven you mad._

Kensi could almost see his familiar grin, just about catch him saying "Sure I was mad – madly in love."

This was bad. This was seriously bad. This wasn't normal – was it? To miss someone so much that it physically hurt?

_I always said I wasn't going to fall in love again, because love hurts. It hurts so damned much,_ she thought miserably. _And now I know it's true_. But Kensi wouldn't change a thing, and even if she had the chance to go back, she would do the same thing all over again. Except maybe this time she wouldn't shoot Marty in the butt. Probably. Because as bad as that had been, it had led directly to a myriad of good things. _A plethora of pleasures_, she thought and started to giggle uncontrollably. _Great. I'm getting hysterical now._ It was probably the lack of sleep. You couldn't go mad from lonelieness in just under a day, could you?

Just as sleep finally started to creep inexorably upon her, a familiar cry broke shattered the quiet stillness of night. _And that was another reason why you shouldn't go away,_ Kensi thought, stumbling across the room. _The night shift's your responsibility. Fair division of labour and all that._ "I'm coming!" she called out and then stifled a curse as she stubbed her toe against the dresser.

It was probably her imagination, but Kensi could have sworn that Densi did a double-take when his mother picked him up. "Really?" she asked. "You've worked out that it's Daddy who comes to you during the night?" Densi just continued to look shocked and then started to whimper miserably again. Whatever it was that was upsetting him, Densi clearly had no intention of settling back down. He howled inconsolably, and nothing Kensi did could calm him down. "You miss your Daddy too, don't you?" she murmured and stared the familiar pacing up and down, humming under her breath and staring out of the window at the night sky, where the stars burnt with their familiar cold fire, and wondering where Marty was and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him.

_Star light, star bright,  
>The first star I see tonight<br>I wish I may, I wish I might  
>Have the wish I wish tonight.<em>

"I wish you were here," Kensi whispered, just as Densi gave a final gulp and then finally fell asleep, his small, warm body sagging in her arms. There wasn't much point in going back to bed now, Kensi thought, so she sat down in the glider and pulled a quilt around her shoulders.

Marty was seeing stars too. It was just a pity that his were not of the astronomical variety.

* * *

><p>"Hetty?" Eric turned around in his chair. "There's an awful lot of cell phone activity coming from the house." He pulled up the security camera link and started to scan the area. It was Wednesday morning and they had been keeping a discrete eye on the yoga retreat ever since Deeks had gone there two days beforehand. Thus far, there had been no signs of any abnormal activity, but now it looked suspiciously as if the rats were leaving the sinking ship.<p>

Hetty could move with deceptive speed and she was right behind him, looking at the monitor intently.

"It looks as if the ladies are leaving," she said, doing her utmost to keep her voice low and steady. "Perhaps you might contact Callen and Sam, Mr Beale. Ask them to drive past the house and report back." She turned to go, and stopped. "And keep monitoring the situation. Please."

It was an unnecessary request, for Eric had no intention of doing anything else. The unusual activity was sending alarms bells ringing, loud and clear. He'd watched similar scenes unfold too many times before. "Deeks hasn't been contact," he remarked, in a seemingly casual voice. All the normal arrangements were in place for a distress signal, but Deeks had stayed quiet. There was a chance that all this could be entirely innocent. Not a very big chance, he conceded, but there was a chance. "Maybe they've all just decided to go on a day trip?" It sounded particularly lame, Eric thought.

"Perhaps." Hetty placed the tips of her fingers together and looked at the screen once more. "It might be a good idea to try to contact Mr Deeks? You could be calling about his dry-cleaning."

Eric tried this and then shook his head. "His cell's dead. Literally. We're not picking up the GPS. You want I should tell Sam to drive a bit faster?" Things were starting to look really bad now. It was time to run up the distress flag.

"I think that would be a very good idea."

Hetty sat back in her chair and prepared to wait. It was always the waiting that was the worst: the waiting and the wondering and the worrying. The feeling of being completely helpless sucked too. She didn't do helpless very well, but she was able to disguise her fear.

* * *

><p>The world had shrunk down to a corona of pain, flaring through his body in bright agony every time he tried to breathe. He was slumped in a corner, huddled over protectively, just in case they came back. Deeks could fight and could fight dirty, but when it was four against one, the odds were crappy from the outset. One man, unarmed and with bare feet was never going to win, but he gave it his best shot, and he managed to get some good blows in, but for every one punch that he landed, Deeks found he was taking at least two back. And these guys knew what they were doing. They knew exactly where to hit and how hard to hit, so that he didn't collapse into unconsciousness too soon. Deeks got the very definite impression they were enjoying this. After a while, he knew he couldn't take much more, that his body was reaching the limits of its endurance and he began to long for it all just to be over.<p>

Eventually, the guy pinning his arms behind his back let go, the leader took one almighty swing and Deeks virtually offered his jaw up to the blow. He was ready for it all to be over. The force of the punch jerked his neck back upon impact, propelled him backwards into the wall, where his skull crashed into the solid concrete and then he slid slowly down to the ground. The descent into the darkness of oblivion was a welcome release.

When he came around, Deeks was alone, crouched in a corner and conscious only of the pain that was burning through his body. Trying to move only increased the agony, so he gave that up as a bad job and tried to focus on individual areas. His jaw was probably broken, he thought, along with at least a couple of ribs. And judging from the way his head was pounding, with a rapid, dizzying beat that made it almost impossible to concentrate, he probably had a fractured skull into the bargain. But that wasn't the worst of his injuries, not by a long shot. The band of pain that contracted around his torso, concentrating its vilest efforts in his back, was beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. It felt as if a wolf was trying to gnaw its way out of his body. The pain was all-consuming. And that meant one thing – that meant he'd suffered some internal damage. Which wasn't surprising, given the way the men had concentrated their punches and kicks. They'd been out to beat him up as thoroughly as possible, to work him over in a manner that meant there was no possibility of walking out of here.

Walk, now that was a joke. Right now Deeks couldn't summon up enough energy to even crawl. So he settled for slowly uncurling his legs and sitting there like some stupid puppet whose strings had been cut, sitting in the corner, leaning back against the wall and trying just to ride through each successive wave of pain that soared through his body. It was getting hard to think about anything except the agony his body was being subjected to, and even the picture of Kensi that was normally so vivid in his mind was proving elusive. His mind simply couldn't focus enough to bring back her face. Much as he would have welcomed another slide into unconsciousness, Deeks knew that he had to hold on, just for a little longer. They would come for him. He knew they would come. All he had to do was just hang on.

He lost track of time, swaying in and out of a confusing world of alternating darkness, where there was nothing – a total absence of everything, including pain – and then lurching back into reality, where there was nothing but agony; searing, bloody agony, the inhabited every single fibre of his being. Deeks knew now that this was really bad, as bad as it could get. Death had always been a prospect, but now it was becoming reality. Lowering his head, he saw that fresh blood stains had joined the darker smears from his beating and the once-pristine white polo shirt was now fatally disfigured. He coughed again and more bright blood splattered down in an abstract pattern worthy of Jackson Pollock.

_I'm not ready to die. I've still got too much to do, are there are too many things I need to say._

The darkness was getting closer again, and in the encroaching shadows he could see Kensi, standing there smiling at him and holding out her hands. And it was so easy just to stretch forward and let her pull him into sweet oblivion. His last thoughts were of her, and of Densi. It seemed very cruel that he would never see Densi take his first steps, cut his first tooth or say 'Daddy'. And there was still so much he needed to say to them both, so many words left unspoken. Only it was too late.

He didn't want to die alone, so Deeks reached out desperately, felt the cool touch of Kensi's fingers on his brow and smiled in relief as he slipped back down into the darkness, which welcomed him like an old friend.

* * *

><p><em>Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.<em>

_I told you evil plot bunny was plotting something. And now he is sitting in a leather chair, smoking a cigar, stroking a fluffy white cat and positively smirking. (thanks to thepixiesmademedoit for that image!) He loves a good maim, and as maims go, this one is pretty major._

_But there was always a clue in the title. The question is, can Deeks now hang onto himself long enough for help to come?_


	14. Chapter 14

The house was large and secluded, set in grounds that were planted with mature trees. It was a favourite setting for both corporate retreats and house parties. Right now, the circular driveway was full of activity, with women stepping into various expensive cars. They all had a similar look – beautifully groomed, dressed to the nines and with immaculate make-up. It was clear that money was no object in their lives. Parked a safe distance down the road, Sam surveyed the scene through binoculars.

"They don't exactly seem to be in a panic," he commented. "How about we go take a closer look?" There was still a chance that Deeks was still there, still there and in one piece. And if he was, Sam was going to take him apart, piece by piece. And then take him out for a beer. Maybe even two.

The stream of cars exiting the pillared gates impeded their progress, but eventually, they managed to turn in to the driveway, just ahead of a Mercedes sports coupe

"Leaving so soon?" Callen asked casually, leaning out of the car window with a charming smile. "My girlfriend said this was supposed to last till afternoon."

The well-preserved blonde flicked her perfect hair dismissively. "The instructor bailed on us yesterday. We hung around, hoping he'd come back, but he's a no show. Pity, because he was cute and he sure filled those shorts of his. But this is LA, and pretty blonds are a dime a dozen." She shrugged and drove off.

"Nice lady," he said wryly, overwhelmed by her concern, and then accelerated up the drive. The time for subtlety was over. It was now time for action, so they went into the house with guns drawn, unsure of what, or indeed who would greet them. They went through all the rooms methodically, calling out warnings, exercising extreme caution – but they were greeted only by empty spaces, mocking their concern. Only one room bore any traces of an inhabitant, with a familiar travel bag sitting in the corner and a brief array of toothpaste, razor, soap and shampoo in the adjoining bathroom.

"You've got to hand it to Deeks, he knows how to travel light." Sam pulled open the dresser drawers and took a cursory look. "It doesn't look as if anything's missing." It didn't look as if the room had been searched either: everything was too neat and tidy.

"They took him by surprise." Callen slammed his fist into the wall, welcoming the sudden pain. "You think he's still here?"

"There's only one way to find out."

There had to be something they'd missed, or at least some clue as to the missing detective's whereabouts. And if they had to turn the house upside down to find it, then that was what they would do. So, starting on the upper floor, they went back through each room, searching painstakingly, then down the curving staircase to the ground floor, retracing their steps with precision. It was in the hallway that Callen finally spotted a door, papered to blend in almost perfectly with the rest of the décor, so cunningly concealed that they had completely overlooked it last time around. Opening it, he discovered a row of wooden steps leading down.

At first sight, it appeared to be a perfectly normal, albeit obscenely large, wine cellar, now sadly denuded of its former contents: just rows of racking stretching across the width of the room, dusted with a generous helping of cobwebs. Once they made sure there was no-one lurking in the shadows, Callen switched on the light and a bare bulb illuminated the scene.

Sam scanned the room quickly, mentally calculating the size. "It's off. This is too narrow by a good twenty feet." He started to prowl around.

Callen dropped his gaze down to the floor, where recent footprints stood out clearly in the dust. "Four guys. And they were half-dragging a fifth man." He hunkered down and examined the tracks. "The fifth one had bare feet, I'm guessing." What was more natural than for a man teaching a yoga session to be without shoes?

They followed the trail of prints around the side of a large bay of racking, and were faced with another door. This one was reinforced with metal, and had a large padlock securing it shut.

"Probably originally used as a secure store," Callen commented, as Sam took out his gun and fired, disintegrating the lock into smithereens. Pulling the heavy door open he took one look before pulling his phone out.

"Hetty? We've found Deeks. Get the paramedics out here now." His mouth was set in a thin, fixed line and his eyes were haunted as he walked into the room to where Callen was kneeling down in the dirt, desperately trying to find a pulse. Deeks was pale, far too pale, and there was a thin trickle of viscous blood tracing down from one side of his mouth.

"Come on, Deeks. Don't do this to me," Callen muttered, gently moving the unconscious man's head to one side and placing his fingers tentatively on his neck. It was there – thin and thready, but a pulse nevertheless. That was probably about the best that could be said. He looked up at Sam, a look that held a mixed of triumph and fear.

"Shit." Sam crouched down and surveyed the damage. "They really worked him over, didn't they?" he shook his head sadly and laid his hand gently on the younger man's forehead. "He's burning up, Callen."

"I know." Callen sat back on his heels , but kept hold of Deeks' hand, his fingers absently stroking it, easing over the bruises and swollen tissues. He lifted it up slightly, noting the damage. "Looks like he put up a decent fight. I reckon these injuries are at least a day old." He pushed down the anger that was rising in his chest. He didn't want to think what the rest of Deeks' body looked like, but he could guess. This had all the hallmarks of a professional beating, designed to do serious damage. He ran his free hand over the back of Deeks' head and felt the large contusion and hair that was sticky and matted with blood. "Looks like he's got a head injury too. Which would explain why he's not exactly with us." The fact that Deeks hadn't moved at all was seriously worrying Callen.

"They left him to die here," Sam said bluntly. "They left him lying here for a day, like he was some damned dog they hit on the freeway. Like he didn't matter." His voice was getting louder as his emotions came to the fore. Of all the things Sam hated, and there were many, not being able to protect his team from harm ranked right up there at the top of the list.

"He matters. And we'll get them." Callen brushed the hair back from Deeks' face and winced as he clocked the bruising and disfigured jaw. Was there no end to the catalogue of injuries inflicted on him? "I promise you, Deeks, we'll get them."

"Where are the paramedics?" Sam was straining to hear the approach of sirens. "They should be here by now. So where the hell are they?" His angry voice echoed around the squalid chamber and Deeks' eyes fluttered open.,

"I knew you'd come," he whispered, through parched lips in a voice that was thin and weak, and with none of the light-hearted jest that normally accompanied his comments.

"Of course we came," Callen soothed, and gripped his hand a little more tightly.

Deeks looked up, and essayed a parody of his normal grin, made even more grotesque by the misplaced jaw. "Thanks. Tell Kensi…" his voice faltered as another barrage of pain engulfed his abused body and he shuddered as he tried to ride it out.

"Tell her yourself," Sam said. "What do you think we are - your messenger boys?" He bent down and stared into Deeks' eyes. "You hang on, okay? You just hang on." He spoke very slowly and clearly and Deeks looked at him wearily.

"It hurts," he admitted. And he was so tired, so very tired of all the incessant agony. It would be so easy just to slip back down into that pleasant dark void where nothing mattered at all. Only Sam was talking again and Callen had hold of his hand in a death grip and they just wouldn't let him go, they were forcing him to stay with them. So Deeks tried to choke down the agony, even though he was screaming inside. If he could have gritted his teeth, he would have, but the shattered jw made tht impossible, and he would rather die than have them hear him cry out like some kid. NCIS agents didn't cry; NCIS agents could cope with anything. Only he wasn't an agent, he was just the guy from LAPD, with a law degree instead of some impressive service background.

Callen saw the way Deeks' eyes started to roll back in his head and tightened his grip. "Stay with me, Deeks. You're not going anywhere." He bent his head down as the injured man's lips began to move, straining to hear the words.

"Tell them… tell them I love them. And I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>"You are so clever!" Kensi enthused. "Rolling over and then trying to do baby push-ups. Just like you've seen Daddy do. Won't he pleased when he comes home and you can show him?" Okay, maybe describing her son's efforts to raise his head and shoulders up from the floor as 'push ups' was a slight exaggeration, but still - it was pretty amazing. The only thing that would make this day any better would be to walk out of the centre and find Marty leaning against the car, trying to appear unconcerned, but with that look on his face; that look that only she knew.<p>

Densi gurgled happily and attempted to clap his hands together, sending his besotted mother into further paroxysms of delight.

"You are the cleverest boy in the whole world," she informed him solemnly. "And that's because you take after me, isn't it? You look like your Daddy, but you're Mommy's boy really, aren't you?"

"Better not let Marty hear you say that!" Suzie was an officer with LAPD: she'd known Marty for years, and she and Kensi had struck up an immediate friendship at the baby classes. They were able to bitch about the job, the demands it placed on them and share their wonder that motherhood was even more challenging that apprehending criminals.

"I'm safe – he's working out of town for a couple of days." Kensi screwed up her face.

Suzie raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Like that, is it?" She looked sympathetic. "So, how have you been managing?"

"Put it this way – he should be back tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. So I guess I'll survive until then." Not that she was counting down the hours or anything like that.

"How about we go for coffee?" They'd found a coffee shop that actually welcomed children, rather than merely tolerating them and it was fast becoming an after-class routine. Suzie pushed her stroller through the door and went out into the brilliant sunshine.

Kensi was about to say 'yes' when she saw Hetty walking towards them. "Maybe next time. I'm actually meeting a friend from work today." The hairs on her arms began to rise, despite the warmth of the day.

Suzie smiled, chucked Densi gently under the chin and went off to her car. Meanwhile, Kensi stood stock still and watched as Hetty walked towards her, with slow, measured strides.

_No. Don't say it._ Clutching Densi to her chest with one hand, Kensi held out the other in a defensive gesture, almost as if she was trying to ward off bad luck. _Don't say it, Hetty. Please._ If Hetty didn't say it, then it wasn't true, it hadn't happened. But she knew. She had known from the minute she saw her boss walking along the street with that singular the expression on her face. _You promised me, Marty. You promised me._

"I'm sorry, Kensi." Hetty took hold of her arm and her touch was infinitely gentle. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

Kensi clutched hold of Densi so tightly that he squeaked in protest. "It's Marty, isn't it?" Her voice was low and level and her heart was breaking. Love was hard. It hurt, she knew that. She just didn't know love could hurt this much.

"It's Marty," Hetty agreed sadly. She began to speak and Kensi stood and looked down at her baby, at the son Marty adored so much and who was the double of his father, and wondered how she could possibly find the strength to go on when her world was crumbling all around her.

* * *

><p><em>I've tried to reason with evil plot bunny, I've even tried to bribe him. But to no avail. He's now lying on his back, nibbling his claws and whistling "Que Sera, Sera". What can I do? I'm mere pawn in his paws.<em>


	15. Chapter 15

_Evil plot bunny is determined to foil all the readers who are after his furry hide and has dug a very deep burrow underneath the house where he thinks he is safe..._

_Boysinbooksarealotbetter (and how true that is - although ECO's proposal was pretty near perfect!) 'maim' is just my term for an injury. For some reason I have not been able to fathom, some people think I am ever so slightly bloodthirsty. That is, of course, completely untrue. I am sweet and sensitive, but have this evil plot bunny who insists on making the most awful things happen to poor darling Deeks. All I can say is that he does maim so beautifully..._

* * *

><p>Sam had wanted to go in the ambulance with Deeks, but the paramedics had made it very clear that he would only be in the way and possibly hinder the treatment his colleague was getting. That was what made him stand down and not push the point, because Deeks looked liked he could use all the help he could get right now. When they had scissored away the blood-drenched polo shirt, cutting straight up the middle so that both parts fell to either side, neither he or Callen had been able to restrain the string of oaths when he saw the constellation of bruises that covered his torso.<p>

"How long ago did you say this happened?" the paramedic asked, busy attaching the heart-monitor leads while his partner listened intently to Deeks' laboured breathing with a stethoscope. It was shallow and fast, the body's automatic response to high pain levels, as the brain tried to blot out the agony by inducing unconsciousness.

"At least a day."

"We're going to want to scoop and run here, Roy. " Using the blood pressure cuff as an improvised tourniquet, the paramedic attempted to find a vein to insert an IV needle. "Looks like his veins are starting to shut down. Grabbing a small canula, he eventually managed to find a vein that did not threaten to collapse. _Damn, this guy needs fluid pushed into him with a large bore, but this is going to have to do_. Glancing up at his partner, they exchanged a grim look and then bent their attention back down to the patient, who was taking on an ashy pallor. _He's doing his best to peg out on us. But that's not going to happen, not on my shift. _

"You take good care of him," Callen commanded. So it sounded like he was giving orders? So what. "We'll be right behind you.

"You hear that, Deeks? We'll be right behind you, so just hang on there." Sam placed the palm of his hand on Deeks' chest, remembering how consoling a simple human touch could be.

Deeks was too tired to talk now, so he merely nodded head, the briefest of gestures and then let his eyes slide shut again. Everyone was talking all around him, saying things that he couldn't quite make out and try as he might, he could not hear the one voice he was longing for. There seemed to be so many people here, but he only wanted one person, and she was nowhere around. It didn't make sense to him. Why wasn't Kensi here? Didn't she know how much he needed her?

"You guys know he's in bad shape?" the driver said softly as he shut the ambulance doors.

"We know." Sam glared at him belligerently. "He's tough. He'll make it." His voice made it clear that there was no other option.

"There's a chance he might not." _We do our best, but we're not miracle workers._

"He'll have a better chance if you get behind the wheel and get him to hospital, instead of standing here shooting the breeze." Sam stalked off to the car and got in, a brooding, glowering presence.

Callen drove so closely behind the ambulance that the sound of the sirens was deafening inside the Aston Martin. That wasn't a problem though, because it kept him focused, made him concentrate on driving, rather than letting his mind slip away to dwell on unthinkable things. Sitting beside him, Sam found the blare of the sirens had the opposite effect. He could almost feel his blood pressure start to rise as his anger and frustration at being unable to do anything built up.

"I should have gone with him."

The danger signs were all there, Callen realised. There was nothing that upset Sam more than the feeling he had not been able to protect his team, that there was something he could have done, something he should have done. Last time they had lost a member, it had been bad, but this time it would be infinitely worse. This wasn't Dom, who had been gone for so long they had learnt to manage so smoothly without him that his absence was no longer even commented upon. Dom had tried hard, he'd been a good kid, but ultimately he'd been outclassed, outnumbered, outsmarted and ultimately those factors had led to his death. That wasn't going to happen here, because this was Deeks, and Deeks was no Dom. They'd resented him at first, fought against what they perceived as an unnecessary imposition, but that had all changed. Deeks was experienced, reliable and more than a little infuriating. He was a part of the team in ways that Dom had never been and could never have hoped to be. He was an integral part of them, part of the warp and weft that made up the fibre of the team's whole being. And Deeks was Densi's father, he was their friend and, above all, he was Kensi's husband and lover. Callen had never seen a relationship like it. He would count himself very lucky if he and Nell could even come within spitting distance of the incredible closeness Kensi and Deeks shared.

"Let it go, Sam," he counselled. "Save that anger and direct it to where it'll do some good – like finding whoever did this to Deeks."

"I'll find them." Sam flexed his fingers, entwining them and then bending them back so that the joints were stretched to their maximum. "I promised Deeks." He relaxed his hands and slid them neatly so that the fingers were perfectly aligned, left resting against right and pointing up towards the sky. If Callen had now known his partner so well, he might have thought that he was praying.

When they got to the hospital, Callen followed the ambulance right up to the doors of the emergency room, ignoring all the signs that dictated this route was for emergency vehicles only. It was a moot point as to whether or not NCIS fell under that category, but one that he was willing to argue, if pushed. What he wasn't willing to countenance was Sam almost daring an LAPD officer to hit him, as the cop attempted to stop the two agents following the gurney and the attendant flock of medical personnel surrounding it and barking out instructions.

"Authorised personnel only," he said stolidly, blocking the entrance into the hospital.

"You want to see my authorisation?" Sam challenged and pulled out his shield. "How about that? Federal agents."

"Medical access only. Sir." The beat between the sentences spoke volumes.

"We're NCIS and that's one of ours they've just wheeled in there."

"Not according to LAPD he's not. Which is why we're here. He's one of ours."

This was descending into farce, Callen thought. NCIS and LAPD fighting over Deeks? How he would have loved that. But someone had to break this Mexican standoff, and by default it would have to be him. So he pulled Sam away, and dragged him around to the official entrance, where Hetty was waiting, just like he knew she would be.

"They've given us a private room." To be more precise, Hetty had requested one, perfectly politely, but with a decided look in her eye that the hospital administrator had recognised instantly and had complied with the request without further ado.

"How's Kensi doing?"

Hetty sighed. "She's bearing up remarkably well. Perhaps a little too well. But then, she has the baby, of course." _Kensi has to stay strong for him._

"I could get Nell to come over and take Densi home?" Callen offered.

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea. Not unless… not until we know a little more. She might need him." What Hetty was thinking was that Kensi might need to be needed. She had insisted on being allowed to listen in to the radio transmissions from the paramedic travelling in the ambulance with Deeks and she knew just how grave the situation was.

"Callen. Sam." Kensi stood up as they came into the room. "He's here?" She seemed incredibly calm; too calm, Callen thought, like she was holing herself together and walking along a tightrope of fear.

"We were right behind them all the way."

Kensi nodded and pushed past them, forcing her way into the hallway. Sam grabbed her arm and when she turned around her eyes were dark with regret. "Don't try to stop me. I need to be there. I need to see him. And Marty needs me to be there." She brushed his hand away and walked away with immense dignity.

"Should we go after her?" For once in his life, Callen felt totally helpless.

"Not just yet. Give her a few moments." There would come a time when Kensi needed her team around her, but Hetty was praying as hard as she had ever done that the moment would not come today.

The resuscitation room was a flurry of carefully choreographed chaos when Kensi slipped in through the doors. Everyone was too busy, too absorbed in their own tasks to notice the pale woman with the baby in her arms and whose eyes never left the still figure lying on the gurney.

"Hang another bag of O Neg. This guy's bleeding somewhere. Could be his belly or his head."

"We need his blood type now," barked another doctor. "What's the hold up? We need to get some type-specific into him."

"It's A Negative," Kensi said, in a clear, detached voice that sounded oddly alien to her ears, like it belonged to someone else. "I'm his wife," she added. "And his name's Marty."

"You shouldn't be here," the first doctor said, staring at a printout. Kensi saw the way his forehead furrowed as he scanned the results.

"I have to be here." It was as simple as that.

"As long as you keep out of the way. We're kind of busy here."

"We're going to take your husband up for a scan in a moment." At least the second doctor appeared to have been paying attention during the obligatory lectures on patient rights and dealing with relatives. At least he was making an effort.

"Marty," Kensi repeated. It was important that they saw him as a person, a human being, not just some warm body with interesting complications who they would bust a gut over while he was under their care and then forget about the moment he was taken somewhere else. "His name is Marty. Marty Deeks. He's an LAPD detective assigned to NCIS."

"Mrs Deeks, Marty's suffered some serious injuries. And the length of time he was without medical attention has made these injuries life-threatening. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You're saying Marty might die." It was so wrong to say the words 'Marty' and 'die' in the same sentence. "Can I see him, please? I won't get in the way. But I just need to see him."

The doctor knew what she meant. "Of course. Just give me a minute to make sure he's stable and then we'll try to give you some time together."

Kensi leant back against the wall, and rubbed Densi's back slowly. "We're going to see Daddy soon, darling, so you be a good boy. And don't be worried if Daddy is sleeping. You just remember how much your Daddy loves you, alright?"

The doctor beckoned her over. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to be brief. They're waiting for him – for Marty – upstairs."

Kensi nodded to show that she understood and then started to walk across the room towards the gurney. It wasn't a large room, but it felt as if it was the longest walk she had ever undertaken.

"Hi Marty. We're here. We're both here – me and Densi. And we just want you to know how much we love you."

It hardly looked like the man she knew, because this man had hair that was covered in dried blood; his face was battered and there were wires and tubes all over his body. Even his hands were cut and swollen and when she bent down to kiss him, she could feel how swollen his lips were.

"Give your Daddy a big kiss, Densi." She bent over and let the baby place his soft cheek against the golden stubble of his father's face and then let her hand run lightly through his hair.

"I love you so much, Marty. And I need you so much. And so does Densi. So don't you dare die – do you hear me?" _If this was a movie, he'd look at me and smile. Why isn't real life like the movies? Why is real life so fucking crappy? You don't deserve this, Marty._

The doctor was gesturing now, so Kensi kissed him one final time. "I'll always love you. Goodbye, my darling."

Turning around, Kensi walked blindly towards the doors. She had been so happy, she had almost touched the sky and soared up into infinity, but now she had come crashing back down to earth with such a vengeance that she was reeling from the impact. That was what happened when you got to close to the sun – everything melted away into oblivion.

* * *

><p><em>Huge thanks to Darkwinrius for allowing me to use the phrase about Kensi almost touching the sky.<em>


	16. Chapter 16

Sam and Callen stood on either side of Hetty: solid, reassuring presences that flanked her protectively. They watched as one set of doors opened, and a gurney was wheeled out, accompanied by the attendant medical personnel and enough equipment to furnish a decent field hospital. Then the doors nearest to them also opened and Kensi virtually stumbled out, clutching the baby desperately to her chest, her eyes filled with devastation and her face etched with an ancient grief.

"Let me take him." Hetty reached out for Densi instincitvely, welcoming him into her arms and aware that she was desperate for someone to hug. He went to her happily, and she rejoiced in holding the solid little body, even if his startling resemblance to Marty almost caused her to break down. There was something about holding a baby that reaffirmed the fact there was always hope left in this world, that even when things seemed at there worst, there was a small candle flame burning bravely away somewhere in the darkness lighting the way home. If the worst happened, then at least Kensi would have her son – their son. Marty would never die as long as Densi lived.

Simultaneously, Sam enfolded Kensi into a warm embrace, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his cheek resting on top of her head. "You can let go now," he whispered. "You don't have to be brave any more."

It was the permission she had needed, having held on for too long, So Kensi wept in his arms, wept bitter tears and sobbed deep, choking cries that shook her whole body with their fierceness and yet neither came close to expressing the grief and despair that suffused her whole body. She wept for the injustice of it all, for the way this should not have happened, not when they were so happy.

Sam wanted to tell Kensi that everything would be alright fine ,to assure her that Deeks would be fine, but while she had been in the emergency room with her husband Deeks, another doctor had briefed the team, and he had left no room for doubt about the severity of the injuries their friend had sustained.

"_We're almost certain there's internal bleeding somewhere in his belly. If we're lucky, it'll be his spleen."_

"_Lucky?" Callen had asked, dumbfounded at the degree of callousness._

_The doctor gave him a dismissive look. "You can live without a spleen. Likewise, you can manage just fine with one kidney. But we're concerned both kidneys have been compromised. The scan will tell us just how bad the damage is."_

"_Sweet Jesus." Hetty might have been praying, or she might have been cursing. Then again, she might just have been economical and used the phrase to cover both eventualities._

"_I'm afraid that's not our only concern. We've noticed some neurological deficits, related to the head injury your colleague suffered. We'll be scanning his head as well, but we fully expect to find a blood clot. Ordinarily, if it was small enough, we could treat that by using blood thinners, but that won't be possible, due to the internal bleeding. In fact, it would virtually be a death sentence." The doctor had sighed deeply at that point. "So, until we know more, I'm afraid it's a waiting game. But the likelihood is that we'll take him straight to surgery once we've seen the scan results. I'll send someone down to talk to you when we know more. If you're staying, that is?" He'd looked at them enquiringly._

"_We're staying," Callen had said, knowing that he spoke for the whole team. Where else would they be? Hanging around the hospital might not do Deeks any actual good, but they could support Kensi; they could be there for her. And that was exactly what they would do. They would stay for as long as she needed them._

So there was really nothing Sam could say, no comfort he could give Kensi, except to hug her and to let her know how much he cared, how much he loved them both and how much he was hurting too.

"I'm sorry." Eventually Kensi pulled back and scrubbed at her eyes.

"No need to say sorry." His voice was hoarse and Sam found he had to clear his throat several times.

"I've soaked your shirt." Her mascara had run over it as well.

"That's okay. How about we make Deeks wash it when he's up and about again?" Sam tried to make a joke, even if it fell rather flat.

"Yeah." Kensi managed a wan smile that was a mockery of her usual shimmering, full-watt beam. She looked up the corridor to where Callen and Hetty stood a discrete distance away. "Thank you for being here. All of you."

"Where else would we be?" Hetty chided and there was a world of compassion in her words. "I rather think this young man needs you now." She patted his small rump meaningfully and raised her eyebrows.

"I can do that," Callen volunteered, forgetting all his previous terrors at the thought of changing a diaper, in his desire to do something useful and to help Kensi in any way he could.

"No, Mr Callen, Densi needs his mother right now." He correctly interpreted Hetty's meaningful look as telling him that Kensi needed something to root her in reality and to remind her that she had a reason to keep on going, to hang onto the fragments of her sanity.

"Come here, gorgeous boy. Come to Mommy." _I'm not just Kensi, I'm Mommy. I've got to think of Densi first. He's too little to understand what going on. And he's too little to remember Marty if anything happens._ That last thought almost started her weeping again, but by a miracle of self-control she pulled herself together, picked up the diaper bag and departed to the baby-changing room. Life was bloody unfair, but she had to keep going on going for Densi. It was what Marty would want her to do.

"What are we going to do?" Callen asked. "If anything happens to Deeks, I mean. What the hell are we going to do?"

Hetty pulled herself up to her full height. "We will do whatever we have to do. We will help Kensi. And then we're going to find those bastards and make them rue the day they were born. Hell itself will not provide a hiding place. I personally guarantee that." She had never meant anything so much in her entire life.

When Kensi finally emerged, with a clean and happy baby in her arms, they walked slowly to the waiting room and sat down, prepared for a long stay. When Nell arrived, complete with the stroller, bottles of formula, more diapers and Densi's favourite toy rabbit, all they were able to tell her was that Marty was in surgery to remove a blood clot from his brain. The operation would take at least four hours and until then there was nothing anyone could do. Except sit and wait in silent vigil.

* * *

><p>Callen resisted the temptation to look at his watch. <em>We should have heard by now. We should have heard something by now. What's taking them so long? Has something gone wrong? We should have heard by – shouldn't we?<em> He snuck a glance at Nell, who was slumped at his side in a state of exhaustion. Just sitting still and being left alone with your thoughts was hard work, especially with Kensi sitting like some beautiful, mute statue on the other side of the room, with a distracted expression on her face. After Densi had fallen asleep, she seemed to have retreated into herself and no-one wanted to disturb her.

"How about we go and get some more drinks?" It had to be at least an hour since the last coffee run. And he needed to do something, anything – because anything was better than sitting here doing nothing except worrying, wondering and waiting.

"Sure. Why not?" Nell wanted to get out of the room before the already pent-up atmosphere got any more highly charged. You could almost cut the tension with a knife as it was.

"We're going for coffee. Any orders?" Nobody seemed inclined to pour any more caffeine into their systems, which wasn't exactly a surprise, given this was the fourth coffee run in as many hours. His own nerves were jangling and he didn't need any more rocket fuel, but it was something to do, a valid excuse to get out of the room.

"We'll take the baby with us," Nell said, taking hold of the stroller. "Maybe we could sit outside with him for a bit?"

Kensi nodded slowly. "He should get some fresh air. Marty likes him to be outside as much as possible."

So they walked down the long, featureless hospital corridor once again, passing people whose anxious expressions mirrored their own, as well as those wearing bright smiles and carrying bright balloons and bunches of flowers. You saw all of life in a hospital, the good and the bad. Life started here and life finished here. It was the beginning and the end, alpha and omega, intertwined into an endless loop that made no sense, no sense at all.

And meanwhile, Densi gurgled happily and chewed the ear of his rabbit. They put a blanket down on a small patch of grass and watched as he rolled onto his stomach and then attempted to push himself up, grunting with the effort. On previous outings Nell had pretended that he was her baby, but now all she could think of was how like Deeks he was, even down to the small pout of concentration.

"He'll be walking soon," Callen observed and picked Densi up, holding him under his arms and letting the baby start to take his own weight on his small legs which padded determinedly on Callen's thighs. "And talking. And if he's anything like his father, once he starts talking, he'll never stop." His face crumpled and Nell could see how he was struggling to control his emotions.

"You don't have to be strong for everyone," she said in an undertone. "This is me, Callen. I'm not going to think you're any less of a man because you're upset."

His eyes were bright with tears that refused to fall. "Sometimes I wish I could cry. It would be easier." All those lonely years growing up in a long series of foster homes had made him construct an almost impenetrable veneer of protective self-sufficiency around himself, refusing to admit that anything could hurt him. But right now it was almost impossible to keep the hurt inside him.

"Maybe you just need to give yourself permission?" Nell suggested. She took Densi from him. "I'll be over there, if you need me."

Callen watched her walk slowly away and then buried his head in his hands. As if in a vision, he saw the image of a small blond boy on a beach and a woman sitting in a deckchair and gazing up at the sky with sightless eyes. And he saw Deeks lying on the dusty floor of that cellar, beaten within an inch of his life. Finally, he saw Densi's small face, bright with expectation. And then, for the first time in forty years, Callen wept, for all that might have been and for everything that was and yet should not have been.

* * *

><p>They stopped outside a glass door and the doctor kept a firm hold of her elbow. "He's in a medically-induced coma, until the swelling on his brain goes down. So the machines are breathing for him right now."<p>

Kensi nodded automatically, her eyes fixed on the still figure lying on the bed, almost obscured by the panoply of equipment that was keeping him alive and monitoring every fluctuation of his body.

"And although we didn't have to operate on his kidneys, they are severely bruised. So we're monitoring their function carefully, because there's a real chance they could start to fail." He looked at her carefully. "You do understand how serious this is?"

Again, Kensi nodded. "But he's alive," she said simply. "Marty's alive."

That was what she had been praying for, because it seemed selfish to ask for anything more. He was alive, and that was all that mattered. Together they could get through this. Together they could climb the highest mountain, climb so high they could almost touch the face of God. She pressed the pad at the side of the door, which opened with a hushed sound, almost like a sigh and stepped forward, knowing that this was where the real battle would be won or lost. Only she wasn't about to give up without a fight. And Marty Deeks was the most infuriatingly stubborn man she had ever met in her life, so there was no way he was just going to lie there in that bed. No, he was going to be fighting right alongside her,

There was just one thing wrong with this picture of valid heroism, of conquering impossible odds. This man lying in the bed wasn't Marty. Her husband had a full head of shaggy hair, not a mass of white bandages; he had an irresistible smile, but this man's lower face was swollen and bruised, at least what she could see around the ventilator tube; Marty was tanned, his skin was the colour of clear honey, rather than this man's mass of bruises and pallid complexion. Kensi laid her head down on the pillow next to his and breathed in deeply, trying to find the familiar scent, the musk overlaid with lemon, and sea salt and sunshine, but it too was gone, replaced by the anodyne scent of antiseptic.

"Come back to me," she murmured and stroked his cheek gently. At last – something was as it should be. Once again she caressed the familiar golden stubble. "Come back to me, Marty." She gazed at him for an eternity, but he lay still and motionless, except for the way his chest rose each time the ventilator forced air into his lungs and kept him alive for another minute.

* * *

><p><em>OMG - evil plot bunny has managed to get into the story as Densi's toy rabbit! There is no stopping that little beast...<em>


	17. Chapter 17

Nell padded cautiously into the kitchen and started the preparations for breakfast. Checking the contents of the fridge, she noticed that it was looking decidedly empty and made a mental note to do some grocery shopping later on that day. If this was going to be a long-haul, then they were all going to have to pull together and help Kensi anyway they could. Which seemed as good a reason as any to put on a load of laundry, she though. The hamper in the downstairs bathroom was getting close to overflowing. Going back upstairs, she heard a muted burble and poked her head around the bedroom door: Kensi was lying curled up in a ball, sound asleep, albeit with a frown on her face, and Densi was lying beside her, contentedly stuffing his toes into his mouth and gabbling away nonsense, that increased in volume as he recognised her face.

"How about we let Mommy sleep a little bit longer?" Nell whispered and bent down to pick him up. "We'll get you changed and then how about we have some breakfast?" She sniffed apprehensively and realised there was something that required urgent attention. Densi seemed perfectly agreeable to having his Auntie Nell look after him and bore her tentative attempts at changing his diaper and slightly soggy sleep-suit with remarkable equanimity. His eyes positively lit up when she produced his bottle of formula and he grabbed hold of it with both hands when Nell proffered it to him. "We're going to manage just fine, aren't we, Densi?" she murmured, sitting down on a kitchen chair and looking out into the garden. It had rained overnight and everything seemed fresh, clean and bright. "We're all going to help until your Daddy comes home to you." Densi seemed to be listening intently to every word she said as he gulped down his breakfast ravenously. Nell just hoped that his Daddy was going to come home soon.

"Morning." Kensi came in to the kitchen, already washed and dressed, looking pale but remarkably composed. "Thanks for looking after the baby." She had managed to sleep, but she didn't exactly feel refreshed. Still after a cup of coffee, at least she would be able to face the day head-on.

"He's been as good as gold." Nell handed Densi to his mother, and watched the way she studied his face intently, as if trying to imprint it onto her memory. "How about I go take a quick shower and then we can get off to the hospital?"

"That would be good," Kensi said absently.

"I made a pot of coffee and warmed up some cinnamon rolls."

"Just coffee." There was no way she could even contemplate eating.

Nell shook her head. "You have to eat, Kensi." She stood and placed her hands on her hips. "You're not going to be any good to Marty or Densi if you don't eat something."

"You'd stand over me and watch, wouldn't you, Nell?" Kensi managed to smile.

"I'd feed you myself, if I had to."

"You're right. Of course." She would manage to choke down something. "Thank you – for everything."

"What else are friends for?" Nell asked simply and then went to get ready, leaving Kensi cradling her baby, and beginning to realise that she wasn't completely alone after all.

* * *

><p>"No change overnight." Sam unfolded his length from a chair in the waiting room. "They let me in a couple of times, just for five minutes. They say he's pretty much holding his own right now." Whatever that meant. It didn't look as if Deeks was doing much of anything, to be honest, other than lying in that bed, lying so still that you might almost have thought he was dead, if it was not for the regular compression of the ventilator and the occasional beep from one of the other machines monitoring his progress. It wasn't easy to sit there and look at Deeks and know there was nothing you could do to help him. The sense of guilt was all-encompassing, as was his need for justice. And if justice wasn't forthcoming, then revenge would do just fine.<p>

"Go home and get some rest," Kensi said. "You look absolutely exhausted."

"I might just do that." He'd managed to take a few catnaps, but that was all and right now Sam knew that he was running on empty. He'd need to be at the top of his game if he was going to have any hope of catching whoever had done this to Deeks. "I'll leave my cell on, so…"

"We'll call if there's any news," Nell informed him and then pointed to the door. "Go home, Sam."

"Do you boss Callen about like this?"

"You'd better believe it."

Sam bent down and dropped a kiss on top of Densi's small head, where the blond fuzz was starting to show definitely signs of becoming curly. "You enjoy having these ladies wrapped around your little finger while you can, my man, because once you grow up it'll all change. And not for the better, either."

Kensi looked around the room. "I think I'll scream if I have to spend any more time here. I'm going to find the doctors and see if they'll let me sit with Marty for a while."

"You want me to take Densi?"

"No. he needs to see his Daddy." The last thing Kensi wanted was for Densi to forget who Marty was.

Nell sat down, picked up a magazine and stared at the text with sightless eyes, not taking anything in. Not for the first time, she wished she had a hobby like knitting, or even cross-stitch – something that would keep her mind occupied. Because just sitting and waiting was the hardest thing in the whole world, especially when nothing happened. Whoever had said that patience was a virtue won by patience needed a good, hard slap.

She was still sitting waiting when Hetty arrived, holding a package that was clearly labelled with Deeks' distinctive handwriting.

"Kensi went to go sit with him." Nell thought of all the shopping and housework she needed to do back at the house. "Can I go and run a few errands?"

"Of course. You've been a great help."

"I've not really done anything." Nell shrugged dismissively. "I just wish there was something I could do."

"You've already done plenty. The fact that you were there last night was exactly what Kensi needed. But I'm here now, so you can go and attend to your own life."

"She's my friend. They both are. I wasn't going to leave Kensi alone – not now." She decided to go back to her own apartment and pack enough clothes for a few days – just in case. Nell liked to be prepared. "I'll be back later. Test me if there's any news – any news at all."

Hetty smiled fondly at her and then left to go in search of Kensi. Just as she thought, the young woman was sitting beside her husband's bed, looking at him with an expression of such complete and utter yearning on her face that it almost took her breath away_. If you don't start to make a bit more of an effort, Mr Deeks I am going to get very annoyed with you. You really don't want to make me angry, because you won't like me when I'm angry._ As she moved closer to the bed, she saw that Densi was lying there asleep, curled up next to his father, and that. Kensi had carefully moved Marty's arm so that it was curving around the baby. They looked so entirely natural, if you managed to look past all the bandages and medical equipment.

"I just wanted them to be close to each other," Kensi said needlessly.

"Is there any news?"

Kensi shook her head. "Not really. They said the pressure in his brain has dropped, which is good, but then they're still worried about his kidneys." The doctor had said a whole lot more, but basically it all amounted to the fact that this was still a waiting game and one which could go either way.

"I have something for you. Marty gave this to me last week and made me promise to give it to you today, just in case he was delayed." Hetty held out the parcel and watched as Kensi started to tear it open. The first thing that came out was an envelope, with 'important!' scrawled across it.

_Darling Kensi_

_If you're reading this, then I guess I've screwed up again and you're mad at me. Don't stay mad at me too long, because you know I really l want to be with you, today of all days._

_Happy third wedding anniversary. Thank you for the best years of my life._

_I'll be home tonight. I promise. Kiss Densi for me and remember how much I love you. And don't be too mad – please?_

_All my love. Always._

_Marty_

_PS: I love you more today than I loved you yesterday. I'll love you even more tomorrow. I love you for all eternity._

This certainly wasn't the way she had planned to spend their anniversary, that was for sure. Not that Kensi had anything special planned, she'd just thought about spending some time together, maybe taking Densi down to the beach to watch the waves crash onto the sand and then sun sink down like a crimson ball of flame into the sea.

"You planned all this didn't you?" she asked, and there was a strangely hollow feeling in her chest. _You knew you weren't going to be here and you planned it all so carefully. You stupid bastard. Why couldn't you just have managed to stay safe? That wasn't so much to ask, was it?._ There was a small black velvet box inside the packet and she opened it numbly and then stared at the diamond eternity ring that flashed bright brilliance.

"Yesterday, today and tomorrow," she said quietly, thinking back to the letter. "You really know how to pick your moments, don't you, Marty?" _You had all this planned – and what did I do? Nothing. It's not fair. I should have done something too. This might be the last anniversary we spend together and I didn't even get you a card. But I thought you were going to come home to me today, and I would have made it so worth your while. Because I missed you so much. And I thought we had all the time in the world, so I never said even half the things I wanted to tell you._

There was only one thing left in the parcel now – another envelope. Kensi slit the flap with the thumbnail and pulled out the letter. Only it wasn't a letter. It was an official document, announcing that Martin Deeks had joined NCIS. Hetty had signed and dated it three years ago; Marty had added his own signature and date last week. She handed it across soundlessly. _You had to go and do that now, didn't you? Talk about bad timing._

"It took you long enough, didn't it Mr Deeks?" Hetty cleared her throat. "Still, better late than never, I suppose." She felt unaccountably moved, which was strange, because it was only a bit of paper, that was all. It didn't really mean anything – and yet it meant everything. He was one of them at last. What a pity that it had come so late.

"Welcome to NCIS, Marty." Kensi slipped the ring on her finger and thought how perfect it looked. "And thank you for everything. Especially Densi. And I'm not mad, not really. But I will be if you don't start to get better. Are you listening to me?"

"Now I know things are getting back to normal: Deeks is sleeping and Kensi's shouting at him." Callen stood in the doorway and smiled. It was a new day, Deeks was still alive and Kensi seemed to be getting a bit of her spark back: things were definitely looking up. For the first time in over 24 hours he felt a faint spark of hope. Things could only get better now.

* * *

><p><em>Gosh - could that possibly be a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel? Or is one of those machines going to start beeping a warning signal?<em>


	18. Chapter 18

"Any change?" Callen asked hopefully.

Hetty shook her head. "Not yet. But sometimes no news is good news." Why is it that one always tended to relapse into clichés at times like this? Especially ones as trite as that. Sometimes no news is just damned frustrating.

"He did sign the papers though," Kensi said, pointing to them.

"It only took him three and a half years," Hetty sighed. "But then punctuality never has been Mr Deeks' strongest suit."

"Chronically late might be a better way of putting it. Glad you finally saw sense, Deeks."

"You'd better wake up soon, Marty." Kensi took hold of his hand. "Because I'm the only person defending you here." She gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I don't know – it's actually rather nice having him quiet for once." Callen discovered that he would give his eye teeth to hear Deeks utter one of his wisecracks. It was funny how you missed things like that.

"You can get too much of a good thing." Hetty folded the paper neatly. "I'd better go and log this into the system. I'll be back later this afternoon." _And with a little bit of luck, there might be some good news by then. Now, that really would be the best anniversary present you could give Kensi – not to mention the rest of us. I wonder if you know how many people care about you or what an impact you've had on all our lives? _It was so easy just to accept the people in your life, the people that really made a difference, and never tell them how important they she walked to her Jaguar, Hetty vowed that she would stop taking people for granted.

* * *

><p>"We're going to start lowering the sedation gradually," the doctor said, aware that Kensi was leaning forward and hanging onto his every word with rapt concentration. "Our tests show the pressure inside Marty's skull has returned to normal, so we're cautiously optimistic."<p>

Kensi knew that some sort of internal device had been placed to monitor inter-cranial pressure during the initial surgery, but she'd tried very hard not to think too deeply about that, mainly because it sounded too gross for words.

"So he could be awake before too long?" she asked, gripping hold of Marty's hand tightly and wishing he would grip back.

"That would be the best case scenario. We have to make sure Marty is to breath for himself, so we'll reduce the drugs gradually and try to wean him off the ventilator. And I have to warn you that there is still a chance that he might not regain consciousness at all, or that the build-up of pressure could have caused some degree of impairment." After all, he had suffered a traumatic, closed-head injury that had been left untreated for far too long. There was simply no way of predicting what was going to happen.

"He'll be fine," Kensi said with complete certainty.

"Deeks is a stubborn bastard," Callen added. "And he's got all that hair to cushion the blow." He caught himself up and looked guiltily at the turban of bandages that swathed his friend's head. "Correction – he did have all that hair. He's going to be so mad when he wakes up and finds out they shaved his head."

"It's only hair. It'll grow again." Sure, she loved his hair, but Kensi wouldn't care if Marty was completely bald for the rest of his life – as long as he woke up and was all right. Nothing else mattered.

"How about you take Densi home for a few hours? I'll stay here and by the time you get back, maybe we'll start to see some signs of life?" Callen gave her a hug. "Come on, Kensi – just give way gracefully for once. Set your son a good example."

"That's hitting below the belt. Using my poor defenceless baby as blackmail."

"That's me – completely ruthless. Someone's got to look out for you." Callen was taken aback when Kensi kissed his cheek.

"I love you too. Thanks for everything. You've all been so brilliant – I don't know what we would have done without you." _Me, and Densi, and Marty. You've been there for all of us._

Callen let his head fall forward to rest against hers. "I wish I could have done more," he mumbled into her hair.

It was as if Kensi could read his mind. "Don't get hung up on some guilt trip, Callen – this wasn't your fault, any more than it was Marty's. It was just one of those things – sometimes it goes with the job. You know that better than most people." All she could think of was that in a few hours Marty was going to be opening his eyes and they could start living their lives again. She kissed him again and then broke away to gather up her belongings. "See you soon, darling. You make sure and be ready for me. I want to see your eyes again – they've been shut for too long." Kensi had a giddy feeling of excitement in the pit of her stomach, almost as if it was Christmas Eve – only this was even better.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Kensi looked blank – she had Densi, she had the diaper bag… Callen waved his car keys enticingly. "Nell drove you here this morning, remember?"

"You're letting me drive your Aston Martin?"

"Shh. Not so loud. You know they've already started to lower the sedation. I don't want Deeks to get any ideas. There's no way I'd let him drive it." They'd fitted a baby seat back at the Mission earlier that morning in preparation for just this oment. Callen waved his hand dismissively. "Go on – get out of here and go home." He waited until he was quite sure that she was gone and that there was no possibility of being disturbed.

"I was only joking there, Deeks. If you come out of this okay, you can drive my car. Anytime. It's only a car. I bet you never thought you'd hear me say that, did you? But you've got to be okay. Because it'll kill Kensi if you're not. And it'll mess me up big time too. Because I'm the team leader and you were my responsibility. I should have been there for you – and I wasn't. I screwed things up, Deeks and I keep thinking about how Densi needs his father. You and I didn't luck out on that score, did we? But Densi deserves better."

Oh God, this was hard. This was possibly the hardest thing Callen had ever done in his entire life: sitting in a hospital room, talking to an unconscious man. But he had some things that needed to be said, and there were promises he had to make if he was going to be able to live with himself. So he took hold of Deeks' limp hand and held onto it firmly, placing his own hands on either side of it, as if he was trying to force a little of his own vitality into his friend.

"So I'm going to make you a promise. If anything - and I mean anything - happens – I want you to know that I'll be there for Densi. And I know it won't be the same, but I'll do my best. And I'll tell him all about you – how you were smart and funny and that you were a pretty amazing shot. How you were a great person to have on the team and just an all-round good guy. And I'll tell him how much you loved him. I'll do that, Deeks – but only if you make me. I'm not good at begging, but I guess that what I'm doing here. I'm begging you to get better so I don't have to do say all that to Densi that. Because I don't think I can say all that without breaking down."

* * *

><p>It was like he'd been weighed down by an immense feather bed, only now somebody had lifted it off him. The first thing he was aware of was this incredible pain in his head, as if someone had drilled right into the centre of his skull. Marty tried to shout out in pain, but there was something in his throat that was stifling him and he realised that he was going to suffocate because he couldn't breathe. This was like one of the choking nightmares he'd had ever since that evening his father had pointed a gun at him, only this time it was real. It was real and it was happening and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.<p>

He wanted to scream for help, but there was no way of letting anyone know he was dying, no way of getting any help, because he couldn't speak. All his limbs felt as if they were weighted down with lead and Marty thought that this was very probably hell. This was what it felt like when you were almost dead and it was the most terrifying thing ever and…

"Marty!"

He knew that voice. It kept on talking and it was as if it was dragging him back. He tried to force his eyes open, only the light was blinding, like a camera flash going off at close range and instinctively he shut them again. Only the voice was still there, low and reassuring and he felt as if he should know who was talking, it was so familiar. And then the final barrier to consciousness fell away and realisation broke through.

"Marty – look at me. It's alright, everything's alright." Kensi kept talking as she watched his eyes open again and look directly at her as comprehension finally dawned. "I'm right here. Everything is fine. You're in hospital and you've got a tube down your throat to help you breath. Don't fight it."

At long last, the hand she had held for so many hours moved and clutched tightly onto her fingers and Marty looked at her with eyes that were round with confusion and panic.

"Everything's fine," Kensi soothed again and then moved aside to let the doctors tend to him. It was a good thing that Sam had looped his arm around her waist because her legs started to buckle and he half carried her to a chair.

"I'm fine." It took a moment before she could speak, because the world was spinning rather too fast for comfort.

"You don't look fine." Seeing the colour drain out of her face like that had given Sam one hell of a shock.

"Really – I'm fine. I've never felt better."

Like she had said – everything was alright. All it had taken was a little patience and a lot of love. And the small matter of emergency surgery.

* * *

><p><em>Happy now? I keep telling you what a lovely person I am - you just need to have a little faith in me. <em>

_Now, did my eyes deceive me, or is that evil plot bunny cropping the grass outside the hospital? And what sharp fangs he has... with blood dripping off them._


	19. Chapter 19

"You sit still for a minute." Just to make sure, Sam placed his hand on top of Kensi's head and pressed her down into the seat. "We don't need the pair of you in adjoining beds."

"I need to get Densi," she protested. "Marty's going to want to see him."

"Densi's just fine – aren't you, buddy?"

In astonishment, Kensi turned around to see Callen standing in the doorway, cradling Densi against his chest and not only looking entirely natural, but remarkably comfortable and at ease.

"Finally succumbed, did you?" Sam had known that it was only a matter of time before Callen finally gave way and held the baby.

Callen shrugged, pretending a nonchalance he didn't feel. "It's not so bad now that his head doesn't wobble around all over the place." Actually, it felt kind of good. And Densi was a cute baby – now that he'd stopped peeing over his Uncle Callen.

"Wait till he starts teething and dribbling all over the place." Sam reached out and chucked the baby over the chin. "It'll be like old times – like watching Deeks watching a pretty girl and drooling away. Or when he was watching Kensi and thinking nobody noticed the look in his eyes." Like some puppy sitting in the pound and hoping someone would take him home.

"I noticed," Kensi said dreamily, with a far-away look on her face as she stared longingly at the bed. _If only those doctors would let me see him again, I could be staring into his eyes all over again… and falling in love all over again._

"Kensi – we all noticed. Everyone. You'd have had to be blind not to notice." Callen held Densi out at arms length. "You should have seen your Mommy and Daddy, dancing around each other, making like they were just partners – nothing more. You would have laughed. Yes, you would." _The strain must be getting to me. I'm talking like a woman. It's either that, or living with Nell. Maybe it's both?_

"I laughed," Sam confirmed.

"Okay – so we were attracted to each other – but we tried to fight it." Kensi shrugged. "We came to our senses – eventually."

"A bit like Deeks is doing right now." Callen nodded towards the bed. "I think they want you over there."

There was certainly nothing wrong with her reflexes, because Kensi shot up out of the chair in a movement so fast that Sam had jump out of the way, but before she could get to the bed, the doctor neatly fielded her headlong dash.

"Your husband is still recovering, Mrs Deeks."

Kensi almost did a double-take at that, because she'd never actually used her married name and it still sounded as if it should belong to someone else.

"He needs to be kept quiet – with no excitement." He looked at her searchingly.

"I understand." Kensi took a deep breath. "Really, I understand." _Get out of my way, would you? I need to see Marty. I need to tell him how much I love him._

"He's not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot," he continued, but Kensi had already pulled free of his grasp.

The bruising was starting to fade, and without the ventilator, Marty was starting to look more like his old self, only rather paler and somewhat battered. Kensi perched on the side of the bed, took hold of his hand and then kissed him lightly on the lips. He looked up at her in surprise.

"I missed you." She smiled and squeezed his fingers and the sheer wonder of feeling her touch returned was too incredible for words. "I was so worried."

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Marty's voice sounded raspy and hoarse. "God, my head hurts." He squinted up at her, like it was difficult to focus. "You want to tell me why my head hurts so much?" _You want to tell me why you kissed me?_

"You were attacked," Kensi said quietly. "They worked you over and they broke your jaw and smacked your head against a wall." There was no sense in pretending, he was going to find out sooner or later.

"Really?" Marty shook his head in disbelief and then winced as the pain level increased. "Guess I must have really pissed someone off."

"You don't remember?"

He lay back on the pillows with a sigh. "Last thing I remember is going back to my apartment after work." Marty shut his eyes and wished the incessant pounding in his head would die down. "And now my head feels like it's about to explode."

"Your apartment?" Kensi could feel her stomach start to sink.

"Uh huh." Marty cracked open an eye. "What's the matter?"

"You do know who I am, right?"

"I might have hit my head, but I've not gone mad. You're Kensi Blye, my partner. And that's Sam and Callen over there. Why's Callen holding a baby, by the way?"

"This isn't funny, Marty."

"Why are you calling me Marty? You never call me Marty." What's going on here? _Why are you looking at me like that – like you care or something?._

_This isn't happening. This can't be happening._ "What are my favourite flowers?" she asked in an undertone.

"I dunno." _What is this – hassle Deeks with twenty questions time? Great timing, Kensi._ "Uh – roses?"

"Daisies. You have to remember that." _The first flowers you ever bought me. The flowers I carried in my wedding bouquet. How could you forget something like that?_

"Great. You like daisies. I'll remember that."

"Do you remember Prague?" Kensi felt like she was grasping at straws now.

Marty looked at her blankly. "How could I? I've never been to Prague. Listen Kensi, it was really nice of you to stay and all, but I'm kind of tired and my head really hurts." _Actually, I hurt all over. And I can't believe you're sitting there looking at me like that – it's like you care about me, or something. Only I know you don't. You've made that quite clear – you're Kensi and you're out of my league. But right now I'm too tired and I hurt too much to play these games any more. I can't pretend when I'm feeling like this, and I can't let you see how much I care about you, because that would be the end of everything._

"I'll go and get the doctor," she said numbly.

"Thanks. And do me a favour and get that baby out of here, will you?" _Who the hell brings a kid into a hospital room? And whose baby is it, anyway?_

Just when she thought they had turned a corner and that everything was going to be alright, Kensi discovered that they'd run head-long into a brick wall.

* * *

><p>The doctors tried to reassure her that some temporary memory loss was not unusual and that most patients would gradually regain the missing pieces of their lives, but all Kensi could think was that she had lost Marty all over again. He wasn't like most people, after all. And the worst thing of all was that he didn't recognise Densi. It felt like he was rejecting the child they had made together, that they had loved so much.<p>

When she got home later that afternoon, her neighbour came rushing out to greet her, wreathed in smiles. "You'll never guess," she babbled excitedly.

"Surprise me," Kensi invited.

"You have the world's most romantic husband, you know? While you were out, the florist came over – Marty must have bought up every daisy in LA." She stood aside and gestured towards her living-room window, where three enormous bouquets of marguerites took up the entire window sill. "They said he ordered them weeks ago."

_One bouquet for every year of our married life. The married life you have no memory of._ Kensi smiled wryly. "Keep them. I've never really liked daisies," she lied, knowing that if she took the flowers home then she would pull of each single petal while chanting 'he loves me, he loves me not'. And there was an odds-on chance that he wouldn't love her ever again.

Once upon a time, Kensi had wondered what would have happened if she'd never gone to Marty's apartment the evening after they concluded the operation involving his old friend, Ray Martingdale. Well, now she knew. She would feel completely hollow and incredibly alone, wondering what point there was in anything.

* * *

><p><em>Oh dear. I did rather think evil plot bunny had something up his sleeve - and it wasn't just a furry arm, was it? The question is - can randy and slushy plot bunnies join forces and save the day (not to mention the marriage)? And how could he forget darling little Densi?<em>


	20. Chapter 20

The cup of Lapsang-Souchong tea lay untouched beside her right elbow as Hetty stared into space, trying desperately to make sense of things. Subtle questioning by Callen had revealed that Deeks appeared to have lost more than three and a half years of memories, believing himself to be newly assigned to NCIS as LAPD liaison and having no knowledge of anything that had transpired in the intervening period. That revelation had been shocking to Callen and she could only begin to imagine how it had affected Kensi, who had to somehow manage to come to terms not only with the realisation that the man she loved not only had no recollection of all the time they had spent together or indeed all the love that had developed between them, but also that Marty had no idea that he was a father. The worst blow must have been when he had displayed no visible emotion towards Densi. Callen had reported that Kensi looked as if she was physically going to be sick.

"What a fucking, awful mess," Hetty sighed and looked at the lukewarm tea with something approaching disgust. "You really don't like my team much, do you?" she said, raising her eyes heavenward. There was only one possible thing to do under the circumstances. Desperate times called for desperate remedies and she had just the solution tucked away in the bottom right-hand drawer of her desk. It paid to be prepared for all eventualities. A little judicious rootling produced a bottle of Glayva and a tin of cheroots. Hetty poured herself a generous slug of the whisky liqueur, lit the cheroot and then inhaled deeply. Neither alcohol nor tobacco were going to solve this problem, but they gave a certain solace as well as a frisson of guilty pleasure. After the events of the past few days Hetty felt she could do with all the meagre comforts she could provide herself with. She inhaled again and blew a series of pungent smoke-rings into the air.

"I bet you used to smoke behind the toilets at school." Sam pulled out a chair and made himself comfortable.

"Behind the potting shed, actually." Hetty amused herself by blowing one very large smoke-ring and then a series of smaller ones through the middle of it.

"What kind of school had a potting shed?"

"A rather lovely one, with a large garden. We used to get to plant bulbs in there in the autumn. We would fill huge Chinese bowls with narcissi and hyacinths and muscari and then putting them in a dark cupboard over the winter months." If she closed her eyes and thought back, Hetty could smell the gloriously damp scent of the bulb fibre and once again she was a young girl, planting spring bulbs and dreaming of the day they would spring into life and perfume entire rooms with their glorious scent. Life had seemed so full of promise and hope in those far-off days, before reality had hit home.

Sam gestured towards the bottle. "May I?"

"Of course. It's been that sort of a day, hasn't it?"

"It's been that sort of a week." Sam swallowed the contents of his glass in one hearty swallow and then shook his head in appreciation. "That hit the spot. So – what are we going to do?"

"About Mr Deeks? What can we do?"

"Hit him on the head again and hope that knocks some sense into him?"

Hetty had often been tempted to follow the example of her esteemed and rightly legendary colleague Leroy Jethro Gibbs and dole out a few head slaps from time to time, but had sadly acknowledged that her height, or rather the lack thereof, rather precluded against such a course of action, unless she took to carrying a step-stool around with her. "Much as I would love to, I rather fear it might be somewhat counter-productive."

"But this is Deeks. He's one of us, even if he doesn't know he is. We can't just sit there and say nothing." _And it's killing Kensi. You should have seen the look in her eyes. It was like he'd ripped the soul straight out of her._

"And you can't force him to remember something that he has no memory of. Nor can you compel him into feeling some emotion that he no longer has."

"Can't I?" Sam ground his fist into the palm of his other hand in frustration before conceding the point. "Maybe not. But maybe we could tell him some stories – bring him up to speed. Or show him some photographs."

"Leave it." Kensi walked forward out of the shadows. "It's nothing to do with you anyway. This is who Marty is now and we have to accept that." She'd spent a long time thinking through the whole situation and had arrived at her conclusion – at the only possible conclusion. It wasn't going to be easy, but there was nothing else she could do – because she loved him. "If I can accept it, then so can you."

"But – you love him. And deep down, Deeks still loves you." _He has to. How could he forget something like that?_

She nodded. "Exactly. I love him. And I love him enough to accept the situation. If Marty falls in love with me all over again, then that would be wonderful – but if he doesn't, then I've got to love him enough to let him go and live his own life. If I can do that, then so can you." Her face was set and uncompromising.

"You really mean that, don't you?"

"Of course. If he still wants me, then I'll be here. I promised to stay with him for better or for worse. But you can't make someone fall in love with you, Sam. And I certainly can't make him stay with me. I wouldn't even try. Why would I want to make Marty miserable?"

"Deeks will stay. Of course he will. Especially when he finds about Densi," Sam said confidently and with the air of a man playing his trump card.

"Marty's not going to find out about Densi. Not until he's decided what he's going to do. He's got to have a free choice, with no coercion." Kensi was resolute and Hetty had never admired her more. "Densi is not going to be used as some form of blackmail. That would only end up making us all miserable."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Sam poured himself another glass of Glayva and Hetty followed suit.

"If Marty wants to stay – then he'll stay. And if he doesn't, I won't stop him from leaving. We can't go back and relive the past – that doesn't work."

"He loves you. He'll stay." Sam just hoped he was right.

"I hope so." Kensi shrugged her shoulders pessimistically. She loved Marty enough to let him go, even though it was the hardest decision she'd ever made in her life.

* * *

><p>She sat on the pier and watched the sunset, Densi in the stroller beside her, with a rug tucked snuggly around him to ward off any chilly sea breezes.<p>

"Did I ever tell you how much your Daddy loved the ocean?" she asked conversationally. "He used to try to surf every morning before work. Well, until he and I moved in together, and then we used to have to rush just to make it in on time. I probably shouldn't have said that, should I? Only you're too little to understand right now." Kensi smiled as she thought back to all those lazy mornings, lying entwined and feeling like there was nothing more important than simply being together and make slow, languid love. She looked around, but there was no-one in earshot. Densi looked happy enough and none to shocked by the confession that his parents had enjoyed early-morning lovemaking, placidly chewing on his rabbit's ear, which was beginning to look sadly maltreated.

_At least one of us is happy. At least you're not affected by all of this. And it's going to stay like that. You are __not__ going to be hurt._ She stared out across the waves, trying to imagine them breaking on some far-distant shore, where one day Marty might stand, looking out at the ocean and wondering why he had these vague memories of a baby with bright blue eyes, golden hair and a smile that would melt the hardest heart.

"I love him, Densi. And all I want is for him to come back to us. But he has to want to come back to us. Your Daddy has to come back because he loves us. It won't work any other way_." I can't live with him if he doesn't love me. I'm not sure if I can live without him, but I do know that I can't live with him without love. That would kill me for sure._

It was probably the chill wind that was making her eyes water and her nose run, no other reason, because she was strong and she could do this. Kensi shoved her hands into her jacket pockets.

"I can't make him stay, because I've got to think of you. It's my responsibility to give you the best life I possibly can. And I want you to be happy, more than anything."

There was a Kleenex in her pocket, and Kensi used it to wipe her eyes and then blow her nose. Densi gave a squeak of pleasure at the sound and kicked his legs up in the air in delight. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to hold him, to savour the one part of Marty that still loved her unconditionally and bent over to release him from the safety harness.

"You see, your Daddy was messed up by his parents. And I mean really messed up. And he would hate it if I allowed that to happen to you. So that's the reason I'm doing this – because I owe it to you and to your Daddy. He'd never forgive me if I let that happen to you too." And there was also a part of Kensi that knew she could not bear to see Marty on a daily basis and be reminded of what they had once had, but which was now gone as surely as the leaves fell off the trees, withered and turned into dust. If it was over, then it would be easier to make a clean break, and start all over again. Being constantly confronted with memories of the past would be too cruel. She hugged Densi, kissed his fair curls and thanked God that she had him in her life - a reason to keep on going.

It was getting dark now, and Kensi thought she really should be getting Densi home and ready for bed. Only she couldn't just switch off her feelings, no matter how much she tried. How could she stop loving Marty or wanting him to be back in her life? It was like trying to breathe underwater – just not possible. She might as well try to command the waves to stop pounding against the supports of the pier, or the gulls to stop circling overhead, because it just wasn't going to happen.

"Don't you ever think that your Daddy doesn't love you, because he does. He loves you more than anything. Maybe even more than he loves me." Kensi kissed her son on his adorable rounded cheek and placed him back in the stroller. "He just can't think too straight right now."

It was stupid; it was downright crazy, but she couldn't go home to that awful, empty house, where everything was a constant reminder of what once had been. Setting her jaw, and holding her head up high, Kensi marched back along the pier to her car, totally oblivious to the fact that Densi's well-chewed bunny was lying on the decking, as forlorn and forgotten as she and her son were.

* * *

><p>"This is really mad," she muttered under her breath, almost sprinting along the corridor. "Completely, utterly mad. So, nothing new there then." She arrived at the nurses' station and smiled ingratiatingly.<p>

"You just wanted to say 'goodnight', didn't you?" Anna smiled sympathetically, knowing the full story and wishing she could sprinkle some magic pixie dust to change things.

"If it's alright?" Kensi sounded unsure, no longer certain that she was doing the right thing.

"Of course. Marty's been kind of restless, and not feeling too great. He's dozing at the moment, but I don't see why you can't sit with him for a while." She looked down at Densi, who was heavy-eyed and beginning to pout with tiredness. "How about you leave the baby here with me?"

Kensi seized on the offer with alacrity. "That would be great – as long as you're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"No trouble at all. We're having a quiet night." Anna pulled the stroller around behind the desk. "And he looks like he's ready to drop off anyway."

The lights were dimmed, but Kensi could still see Marty's face quite clearly, his brows drawn together, his mouth tense. As she watched, he frowned more deeply and then moved restlessly in the bed. Instantly, she was at his side, stroking his arm gently.

"It's all right. Everything's fine. Go back to sleep." She'd soothed him through nightmares many times and knew not only all the warning signs but how to deal with them.

"Kensi?" Marty's eyes fluttered open suddenly and he gripped onto her arm. "Kensi?" His voice was thick with sleep and he sounded confused.

"I'm right here."

"Kensi?" Marty repeated for a third time and forced himself up onto his elbows to stare at her. "Is that really you?" He was looking intently at her, still in the half-world between sleep and reality, not sure if he was still dreaming or if he was awake.

"It's really me."

Marty collapsed bonelessly back against the pillows. "Thank God. I've been having the most awful dreams." His mouth twitched suspiciously. "I dreamt I'd lost you and I couldn't find you and I kept looking." Kensi didn't think she could bear to hear the vulnerability in his voice, or see the look in his eyes as he tried to work out what was going on.

"I'm right here." A small flame of hope began to burn in her heart.

"And Densi was crying and I kept running, but I was trapped in the maze and I couldn't find him either." His voice finally broke at this, and Marty raised his arm and let it cover his eyes.

"You found me. And I'll never leave you." Kensi lay down on the bed and took him in her arms. "I'm right here and you're safe." She let her head rest on his shoulder and gave jubilant thanks. "No matter what, I'll always be here. Because I love you."

"Love you too," Marty mumbled and then let himself slide into a deep, dreamless sleep, knowing that he was safe and that he was loved. Lying beside him, Kensi dropped a series of butterfly kisses on every inch of exposed skin she could find and then finally allowed herself to weep tears of pure and unadulterated joy.

* * *

><p><em>Happy now?<em>


	21. Chapter 21

Kensi lay beside him for the longest time, her arms wrapped around Marty, revelling in the closeness she had been denied for so long and wondering afresh a how well their bodies fitted together. She put one hand on his chest, palm flat so that she could feel the slow, steady beat of his heart.

"You came back," she whispered. "You came back to me." Life had never seemed quite so wonderful, or so full of promise. Marty was back, he was going to get better and then they could take Densi and go home and be a family once more. Indulging herself for just a little longer, Kensi listened to Marty's deep and regular breathing, scarcely able to believe that the nightmare of the past week was finally at an end. Eventually, she forced herself to get up and collect Densi, who had won another admirer in Anna. Tonight they were going home alone, but soon Marty would be with them. It was hard to tear herself away, and had circumstances been different, Kensi would have gladly slept on the floor of the hospital, but now she had the baby to think of, so she thanked Anna again and went home.

There was just one thing Kensi had to do before she collapsed from total exhaustion, but luckily it was something she could do from the comfort of her bed.

"Hetty?I'm sorry to call you so late at night, but I've just got back from the hospital. And I've got good news." Kensi settled back comfortably against the pillows and updated Hetty on the last twist in the tale. She could hear how relieved Hetty sounded, how thrilled she was that Marty had recovered his memory and how very glad she was that Kensi had called, despite the late hour.

"You get some sleep now," she counselled in a motherly tone. "I'll call Mr Callen and Mr Hannah." "Would you?" Kensi could feel her eyelids starting to close, despite her best efforts to stay awake. The team had done so much for her and she would never be able to thanks them enough for their unfailing support and, most of all, for their love.

"Of course." Hetty ended the call and did a dance of sheer joy around her bedroom, much to the bemusement over her gentleman friend, who watched her antics with a fond smile, before getting out of bed and joining in.

Lying in the darkness, Kensi turned her head and inhaled deeply. She'd purposefully not changed the bed since Marty had left and there was still a faint hint of him on the sheets and, most especially, on his pillow. Giving into temptation, she pulled it over, hugged it tightly and curled her body around it. It wasn't nearly as good as having the living, breathing man beside her, but it was the next best thing, and right now, that would have to do.

* * *

><p>"It's official – Deeks has finally come to his senses." Callen breezed into the room, followed closely by Sam.<p>

"That's kind of supposing he had any senses in the first place." Sam flashed a broad smile. "Good to see you sitting up and taking notice, by the way. Even if you do look like death warmed over." It was true – he'd looked better when he'd been unconscious, which didn't seem right.

"I feel like death warmed over." It seemed like his whole body ached, but the worst pain was centred in his lower back. Marty shook his head as Callen handed a cup of coffee across. "No - I couldn't face that." Even the smell was making him feel nauseous.

"Dear God – the world is officially coming to an end: Deeks has refused a coffee." Callen bent over to take a closer look. "You really don't feel so good, do you?"

"I feel crap," he confessed. "Only don't tell Kensi."

"Yeah, like that's going to work. And it's more than my life's worth if she finds out." _Maybe he's like Samson? They shaved his head for the operation, after all._ It seemed strange to think of Deeks without hair. Strange, and yet somehow hilarious. _Only that was just a story – wasn't it? Surely that can't be why he's feeling so bad?_

"You'll probably feel better in a day or so, once your body starts to heal. Just give yourself time." Sam sipped his own drink. "And drink plenty."

"He's going to try to convert you to green tea," Callen warned. "Or a wheatgrass smootie."

Deeks gulped and went a delicate shade of chatreuse. "Can we not talk about things like that – please? And anyway, I am drinking plenty. The nurses here are obsessed with measuring everything that goes in and everything that comes out." It seemed like every time someone came in they were fiddling with the catheter bag.

It must have been catching, because Callen ducked his head down to take a look. "At least you're not peeing blood anymore."

Deeks groaned. "Are you trying to make me throw up? Because if so, you're doing a really good job. Don't even joke about peeing blood – that's too gross for words."

Callen thought that under different circumstances Deeks would probably have managed to combine the two words to come up with something uniquely Deeksian, but then the guy had recently had brain surgery, so perhaps that was asking a little too much.

"No joke," Sam said. "They really worked you over."

"Tell me about it." Deeks tried to stretch in order to relieve the dull agony in his back, but all his bruised and damaged muscles protested heartily and he gave that up as a bad job. He looked fretfully at the door. "Didn't Kensi come with you? Not that it's not great to see you but…"

"But she's the one you want right now? Sorry to disappoint you, but we told her we'd take the early shift. Kensi's been running herself ragged ever since you've been in here." Callen regretted saying that when he saw the guilty look that crossed Deeks' face. "Look, don't beat yourself up about what happened. We're going to get those guys. It's just one of those things and it could have happened to anyone." The minute they got back to the Mission he was going to start the biggest manhunt LA had ever known.

"But it happened to me." His fingers plucked nervously at the sheets. "And Kensi must have been out of her mind with worry." Just a few months ago, he'd thought for a couple of hours that he might lose Kensi and their unborn baby, so he knew exactly what it felt like.

"You could say that," Sam commented wryly. "The rest of us weren't a whole lot better."

"Really?" Deeks looked utterly astounded.

"Really. You kind of grow on people. Anyway, we've got used to you and I'm too old to start house-training another cop." He looked at Deeks and grinned. "Only you're not a cop anymore, are you?"

A vague smirk, almost the ghost of a knowing smile, eased across Deeks' face for a brief instance. "Kensi told you?"

"She told me. It would have been nice if you'd been conscious at the time to join in the celebrations, but you can't have everything. Only your timing really sucks, you know that Deeks?" It was as near as Sam would probably ever get to saying how much he cared.

"It kind of sucked for me too." He looked anxiously at the door again.

Callen didn't think he could take much more of the longing looks and was just about to offer to text Kensi, when she burst in.

"I'm sorry I'm late, only Densi threw up just as we were leaving the house." She almost ran over to the bed. "How are you?"

"How about you take a look at him and decide for yourself?" Sam asked, knowing neither of them would hear a word he said. This was like watching one of the Twilight films, where that sulky girl and the hot-vampire exchanged passionate glances and were impervious to everything else. Deeks had that appealing puppy-look and Kensi looked as if she had stars in her eyes. Any minute now and a full-sized orchestra would break into Rachmaninoff's Second Piano concerto.

"How about I take Densi for a bit?" Callen offered, desperate to get out of the room while he still could.

Deeks shook his head. "No way. I've missed him too much already." He held out his arms.

"And he's missed you too." Kensi placed the baby in his father's lap. "We both have," she added meaningfully and then stroked Densi's blond curls fondly. "He can roll over now. And then start to push himself up of his stomach. I reckon he'll be starting to crawl soon." There would be a time for heartfelt confessions, but that time would have to wait until they were alone. There was a limit to how much she wanted to share with Sam and Callen.

"You're getting such a big boy." Deeks picked Densi up and surveyed him carefully. "Remember me?"

"He's been in to see you every day," Kensi assured him. She sat down on the bed and took a more objective look at she really didn't like what she saw. "Marty, how are you really? Because you look like crap." She ran her thumbs underneath his eyes, tracing the dark circles. "I've never seen anyone with brown circles like that."

"I feel kind of crappy," he admitted, finding Densi rather too heavy for comfort: his arms were shaking with the effort of holding him. "I just can't shake it. And my back really hurts."

"Want me to go chase up a doctor?" Sam's tone was carefully nonchalant.

"Why not?"

Sam disappeared silently. And that was when Kensi knew for certain just how ill he was feeling. The Marty she knew would moan on endlessly about something trivial about a paper cut, but try to deny that a broken arm hurt like blazes. He would make an insane amount of fuss about a having few stitches removed but drag himself out of a hospital bed to save her. The day Marty admitted he was ill was the day something was very wrong indeed.

"How about you take Densi after all?" she offered, picking up the baby and plonking him in Callen's arms. "And then go for a walk." There were things she needed to say: things that could not wait. No longer would Kensi put things off, because she knew that you did not always get a second chance. They'd been lucky this time, but you couldn't dodge the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune forever.

* * *

><p><em>Oh-oh. It looks like slushy and evil plot bunnies are vying for dominance here. Anyone want to bet on the eventual winner?<em>


	22. Chapter 22

_Some readers may notice there are a few parallels between this story and 'In The Event Of My Death', which I wrote in the summer.  
>Just to clarify: they are separate stories, and not in the same 'universe' but there are definitely similarities - for example, the wedding in Prague, Callen and Nell getting together and of course Kensi and Deeks having a son.<em>

* * *

><p>Kensi waited until Callen had closed the door behind him before she fixed her husband with a firm look. "Okay, it's time we had a talk."<p>

Marty looked uncomfortable. "Should I be worried?" He was pretty sure Kensi was going to tear him off a strip for not taking better care of himself. Which was fair enough, given he'd been doing the same thing ever since he'd woken up that morning. And they woke you really, really early in hospital, which meant that he'd had a lot of time to think and to beat himself up. Yup, he should definitely be worried. He felt like some guilty kid, caught stealing apples from a neighbour's tree or something.

Kensi took a deep breath and launched into her speech.. "I've been doing a lot of thinking – and a lot of praying." She paused, trying to work out how to put all her feelings into words, but Marty jumped in before she had a chance to continue.

"I'm sorry. So very sorry. I should never have put you in that position." Marty felt so guilty that he couldn't bring himself to look at her. "Can you forgive me?"

It wasn't often that Kensi was lost for words, but this was one time when the wind was definitely taken out of her sails. "What are you talking about?" She gave him an incredulous look and saw the miserable expression on his face. "You think I'm angry at you? Marty, I'm deliriously happy. I couldn't be less angry if I tried."

"Really?" It was his turn to be dumbfounded. "You're not mad?"

"You want me to get a magic marker and write it on your chest?" she offered. "I'm not mad. I'm in love. All this just made me realise how much I love you."

Marty sagged back on the pillows with relief. "I thought I'd maybe had it," he confessed. "That my luck had run out and I was going to die in that cellar. I thought you weren't going to find me." He couldn't look at her now, for the simple reason that his eyes were to full of tears to begin to focus, so full that he knew a single blink would send the tears running down his cheeks. "I really thought I was dying and all I could think of was you and Densi."

"I thought you were going to die and all I could think of was all the things I haven't said. And how much I love you." There was a whole lot more that Kensi wanted to say, but suddenly words weren't important any more: what was important was to get up on the bed and hold Marty like she'd never held him before in her life, as he held on to her, two people clinging on to one another and deriving a support and comfort that went way beyond normal communication. And in that silent communication of souls, the meeting of body and mind, they both realised that nothing else mattered. They kissed as if nothing could tear them apart, nothing could fall and they could be heroes just by being themselves and they could beat everything, forever and ever.

"I love you so very, very much," Kensi whispered after a while. "I love you more than anything." She'd even loved him enough to be willing to let him go – if that was what was required. "But I don't think I can live without you. Promise me you'll never leave me?"

Deep down, in a part of her soul that was normally well-shuttered away, Kensi had never got over her father's death. It had felt like a betrayal when he had gone, leaving her bereft. Maybe that was why she'd been attracted to Jack, the older man- who just happened to be a Marine, just like her father? There had to be some reason, after all. Only Jack had left her too – only he had made a conscious and willing decision to go, he had done so deliberately and coldly, having planned everything out. Jack was a coward – at least Kensi's father had died like a man. And Marty's battered hands were testimony to the fight he'd put up, clear evidence that he would never just give up.

"I'll never leave you. Never. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Kensi. You're my whole like. At one point, and I guess I was maybe delirious or something, I was sure I could see you standing there in the cellar and then I thought I could feel your hand on my face. And I knew I wasn't alone and that you were with me. That you'd always be with me."

Marty knew what it felt like to be left alone; he'd lived through the nightmare of Galveston when Kensi had disappeared into the night with Jack. And before that, he'd lived with an abusive mother, who had pretty much made his life hell, so much so that no judge would even consider giving her custody after the bitter divorce. Sure, his dad had been rather too fond of a drink, but he'd never tried to use Marty as a human shield and then thrust a gun into his eleven-year old's hands before coldly instructing him to shoot. Sure, his mother had been a basket-case, and his father barely better, but they were all he had. Until the night when the cops came and arrested them both. And the worst thing was that Marty had been too scared of his mother not to obey her. He'd shot his father, who was only trying to take him back to safety. That was the last time he'd seen either of them and Marty had been alone ever since – until he found Kensi.

"I'll always be with you. That's what we promised each other, wasn't it? In Prague." Kensi held up her hand and the eternity ring sparkled in the sunshine, sending rays of refracted light onto the pale hospital walls in a rainbow of colour. "Yesterday, today and tomorrow. And forever. That's how much I love you – forever. And the day after."

"Happy anniversary, baby girl."

"Happy anniversary." So it was a few days late? It was the thought that counted. And the fact that they were together and nothing else mattered. "You want to hurry up and get better, please Marty? I miss having you beside me in bed at night. I missed you so much. I missed everything about you."

"You just want to have your wicked way with me, don't you?"

"Yes, please. I could bring you some ice cream tomorrow and feed it to you?" Kensi suggested wickedly, remembering what had happened the first time she had done that very thing and what had resulted. It was a scene they had often re-enacted and enlarged upon and one that never grew stale or boring.

"If that's not an incentive to get better, I don't know what is." And then Marty remembered something. "We'd maybe better wait till they take this damned catheter out first, though." If anything was going to cramp his style, it was having a rubber tube somewhere he didn't want to think about.

Just as Kensi was opening her mouth to say she was sure they could manage something, the door opened.

"I'm Angela Sharp, the Head of Urology. And we need to have a conversation." She smiled kindly. "The nurses tell me you're in quite a lot of discomfort."

Marty would have tried to play down how bad he was feeling, but a stern look from Kensi put paid to that bright idea. "I don't feel too good," he admitted reluctantly, wondering where all this was leading and not at all sure he really wanted to know.

Kensi could feel as if a cold fist had punched its way into her chest as she recalled the doctors in the emergency room speaking of possible kidney damage. She looked at the doctor with mute appeal in her eyes, and yet knowing it was useless.

"The beating you sustained traumatised your kidneys, Mr Deeks. Initially, we were very concerned about the damage, but the first priority, medically speaking, was to attend to that blood clot on your brain. So we've been monitoring you, very carefully, ever since."

"Callen and Sam said I'd been peeing blood." Marty still didn't quite believe that one. And he definitely didn't want to think about it too deeply.

"You were passing a considerable amount of blood in your urine," the doctor confirmed. "But that has stopped now."

"So that's good news?" Kensi asked, seizing the positive with both hands and holding on to it tightly.

"It is and it isn't." Angela pulled out a chair and sat down. "While your kidneys aren't actively bleeding, neither are they working as well as we would like." She wanted to introduce the concept gradually before she hit this young couple with the devastating news.

* * *

><p><em>I've taken the liberty of using some lyrics from Heroes, by the incomparable David Bowie. The plot bunnies love him too. Poor randy plot bunny is complaining that he hasn't seen any action for a long time, and is begging for a chance to strut his stuff, but I think he is just going to have to be patient - or entice his evil brother into a crate and despatch him to some far-flung corner of the world.<em>


	23. Chapter 23

"Could you explain exactly what that means?" Kensi asked, seeing that Marty was silently digesting the news.

"The kidneys work by filtering waste products from the blood, and then discharging these into the bladder. When the kidneys are damaged, they aren't able to do this and there's a build-up of toxins in the blood."

"That's why I feel so crappy?"

Angela smiled sympathetically. "That's it exactly. You were just unlucky in that both of your kidneys were compromised, because you can live quite happily with only one. We've been running regular blood tests on you since you were admitted, hoping your kidneys would spontaneously recover, but so far that hasn't happened. For the past few hours, you've produced virtually no urine at all and that means we have to do something."

"Something. You want to be a bit more specific than that?" Marty flashed a quick grin at Kensi to let her know he wasn't that bothered. Things could be worse – couldn't they?

"There is a chance you could go into complete kidney failure. And if that happens, then you're either looking at a lifetime on dialysis, or trying to get a kidney transplant. And that's the bottom line."

"Okay." Marty sat silently for a few moments and worked this out. "Either way, that's pretty major, isn't it?"

"It's life-changing," the doctor agreed. "That's not to say you can't lead a full life. But either option would mean you would have to make a lot of adjustments."

"Starting with my job?" There was no way you could just leave a stakeout to nip off and have a dialysis session, after all.

"Very probably. But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves, shall we? We've not come to the point where we have to make decisions like that just yet."

Kensi seized on that small crumb of hope as a drowning woman might grab onto a matchstick. "So, there is a chance?" she asked, although begged might have been a better way of putting it. "There's a chance that he could still be alright?" All those prayers she had offered up had merely been for Marty to live, she had never thought to ask that he would remember her, or that he would suffer no long-term effects. All that had mattered at the time was that he should live. A little voice inside her head reminded her that was still all that really mattered, when it came right down to it, but Kensi found it difficult to comprehend that fate could be quite so cruel as to take her at her word.

"There's still a very good chance. What we're going to do is to try to take some of the strain off your kidneys and see if that helps."

"And you're going to do that how, exactly?"

"Dialysis. We'll take your blood, filter it and remove all the build-up of toxins, and then return it to your body. In effect, the dialysis machine will do what your kidneys should be doing. We hope that we can take some of the strain away, give your kidneys a rest and then see what transpires. With any luck it will kick start them back into action again."

Instinctively, Kensi crossed her fingers. If her boots had allowed, she would have crossed her toes too. Right now they needed all the luck they could get.

"I'm not getting out of here any time soon, am I?" Marty asked in a resigned tone of voice. Part of him was relieved to know that there was a reason he was feeling so ill, and that it was treatable. But there was a whole other part of him that was terrified. The idea of having permanent kidney damage scared the crap out of him. He wasn't too keen on the whole idea of dialysis either, if it came to that.

"Not until we've got you stablised, one way or the other." The doctor looked at him shrewdly. "I'm guessing that you don't actually feel like walking out of here right now, though, am I right?"

Marty wasn't going to admit anything of the sort. "I guess I could stay a while," he volunteered reluctantly.

"He feels terrible," Kensi said firmly. "And he keeps complaining of a sore back."

"Not 'complaining', Kensi. That makes me sound like I'm sitting going on about it all the time." It seemed important to make that clear. Marty didn't want the doctor to think he was a complete wimp. She'd find that out for herself soon enough, after all.

"Sorry. I'll rephrase that, shall I? How about 'my husband has occasionally mentioned that he is in excruciating agony'. Does that work any better for you?"

"Just peachy."

"I'll make the arrangements then," Angela said. "We'll get started in about an hour. And you should start to feel a whole lot better."

"Any chance of removing the catheter?" Marty went bright red. "I don't me you personally, of course. Anyone could do. Anyone who knows how to do it, that is." He was already mangled up enough without adding to the catalogue of injuries.

The doctor shook her head. "Definitely not. We need to be able to tell if your kidneys start working again. Sorry, but you'll just have to live with it for a while longer. It's not that bad, is it?"

"He's a man," Kensi said. "And he's got a tube in a place he doesn't want to think about. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?"

"I'm afraid you pretty much leave your dignity at the hospital door, Mr Deeks."

Kensi smiled for the first time since the conversation began. "Tell me about it. I had a baby a few months ago." What was a mere catheter compared with all the indignities of internal examinations? Although, to be fair, having a section had meant she'd managed to avoid the whole 'lying with your legs up in the air' part, which was actually rather a relief now she came to think about it. Knowing Callen's knack of catching her unawares, he would probably have walked in at exactly the wrong moment and they'd never have been able to look at one another again.

"Excuse me? I am still here, you know."

"And you make sure you stay exactly where you are." Kensi squeezed his hand. "It's going to be alright, Marty."

"Is it?" The thought of dialysis was kind of scary, being hooked up to some machine that was going to suck out his blood and then scoosh it around before pumping it all back in. And he'd never been too keen on needles in the first place.

"Sure it is. You're going to get better and we're going to go home and I'm going to make love to you like never before."

His jaw still ached like fun, but that didn't stop Marty grinning from ear to ear. "Is that a fact?"

"Definitely." Kensi dropped a tantalising kiss on his lips. "And it's also a promise. Call it a delayed anniversary present, if you like."

"I definitely like. And I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"Believe me, it will be my pleasure. And yours too, I hope."

Angela Sharp smiled to herself, reckoning that her patient had a very good reason to get well as quickly as possible. There was just a chance that he might be one of the lucky ones and walk out of the hospital with no lasting damage.

Kensi disentangled herself from Marty's embrace. "How about I go get Densi and you can spend some time together before the y start to get you ready for dialysis?" she offered.

"You know all the right things to say. Go get our boy and let's spend some time together." So he'd have to wait a while to find out what his body was going to do? Well, he could do that, Marty thought. He could be patient. Just as long as he didn't have to be too patient. And his body would heal itself, Marty was almost certain of that. It was a good body and it did pretty much everything he asked of it. Of course, he put considerable time and effort into making sure that he stayed in condition. And by the time he got out of here, he was going to be so out of training it wasn't true. Still, maybe Kensi could help him get back into shape? All he had to do now was concentrate on getting better. And he could do that. There was no doubt about it.

"Look Densi – it's Daddy. How about you give him a big hug?" Kensi swung her legs up onto the bed. "There you go – my two favourite men together."

"His hair's starting to curl." Marty stroked the soft thatch.

"Uh huh. Just like yours. Or rather, what yours will be like in a while."

Marty glared at her suspiciously. "You want to elaborate on that?"

"Ah. Yes." Kensi was just glad he was holding the baby. You couldn't go too mad when your arms were full of an energetic baby who had wriggling down to a fine art.

"They shaved my head, didn't they?" He blinked in disbelief and then raised one hand, only to encounter a turban of bandages. "Kensi – how could you let them shave my freaking head?"

"Actually Marty, that was kind of the last thing on my mind. I wouldn't have cared if they'd shaved your entire body while they were at it, just as long as they kept you alive."

* * *

><p><em>Now, there is an image to conjure with...<em>

_So - no immediate kidney transplant then! See, like I keep telling you, I'm really not that cruel. It is all the fault of evil plot bunny. LUckily, his alter ego (aka Densi's toy rabbit) was last seen sinking in the ocean just off Malibu. So that's alright then. Or is it?_


	24. Chapter 24

"It was that bad?" he asked in the ghost of a voice. "Really?" Marty had rather suspected there were a few things he hadn't been told. And there were definitely a few missing days that nobody had yet accounted for. He might have had a whack to the head, but he could still count and work out the days of the week – and by his reckoning, at least four were missing.

"It was that bad." Kensi bent her head and played with Densi's toes. She knew that she couldn't look at Marty and tell him what had happened. "I thought you were going to die. You had a blood clot on your brain, for crying out loud. That's kind of major, even by your standards. I hardly recognised you., they'd worked you over so much." She shuddered, remembering the battered figure lying in the ER. "And then you were in a coma for days afterwards." She wasn't going to go into details about that, or tell him how awful it had been to see him lying there, kept alive only by machinery.

"Okay. They haven't told me that bit." That was kind of a body blow. And Marty couldn't imagine how Kensi had coped, because he knew that he would have been a complete basket case if it had been her lying unconscious and unresponsive. _What did I put you through, Kensi?_

"There's more." She couldn't keep it to herself any longer. "When you first woke up, you didn't know we were married." That look in his eyes when he'd first come around still haunted her. It was as if the man she knew and loved had gone completely, leaving a stranger inhabiting his body.

Marty's hands tightened around Densi. "Come on – how could I forget something like that?" Of all the impossible things to think, that had to be right up there at the top of the list.

"Because you'd lost time. You thought you'd just joined NCIS as liaison. So, in your mind, I was just your partner. Nothing else." _And I thought the bottom had crashed out of my world, because I'd lost you all over again._

"You were never nothing. You were always something else. I knew that the moment I saw you." His voice was low and sincere.

That first moment, when Kensi had come into the gym, strutting her stuff for all she was worth, he had known she was something else. More than that, he'd had this awful feeling that she was his someone, the one person who would make a difference, who he'd get in so deep with that there would never be any chance of ever getting out again. And that had rocked his world, terrified the living daylights out of him. Flirting and teasing was one thing, one-night stands and casual encounters were just fine, but relationships were something else altogether. Relationships meant that you had to expose the parts of yourself you would rather keep hidden. Thank God he'd realised that Kensi really was the person he was meant to spend time with, and that he could trust her with his damaged soul.

Kensi shook her head. "You're not listening to me, Marty. You didn't even know who Densi was." It was hard to keep her voice steady as she said that and there was no way she could look at Marty.

"Shit. That must have been some bang on the head I took. How come I don't remember any of this?" That crack Sam had made about coming to his senses suddenly made sense.

"Maybe because it was some bang on the head?" she offered.

_I wish I could forget it. Only it put everything into such sharp focus, like I was seeing things clearly for the first time. I always knew I loved you. I just never realised how much I loved you._ That awful, all-encompassing love that was so deep-rooted, so integral that it hurt. The love that was so great she would rather take the pain herself than to see him suffer. Kensi had never thought she could be so unselfish, but her love for Marty had taught her otherwise. She knew she would do anything, as long as he and Densi were safe and happy. And that was such a grown-up thing to do, it was scary. Since when had she been a grown up? Well, the answer to that one was easy: the day Densi was born.

"Christ, Kensi. I'm so sorry." _Of all the dumb things you've ever done in your life, Deeks, that has to be the dumbest._

"It's fine – it's fine now." Just as long as she never had to think about that awful time again, Kensi would be fine. But she was never going back there again.

"My hair doesn't really matter a whole lot, does it?" In the scheme of things, it didn't matter a damn.

It was stupid, because she'd managed so well up until now. But that was the final straw and all the tears that Kensi had held back so successfully suddenly overflowed. "Of course it does! I loved your hair, Marty!"

It was the first thing she'd noticed: the fair hair glinting at the back of the gym, tousled and sweaty and surrounding the face of a sulky angel. And all the months afterwards that Kensi had spent longing to run her hands through it, until finally she'd taken the plunge and driven over to his apartment that wonderful night… that wonderful, never to be forgotten night. At that instant, an idea came into her head. It would take some planning, and she might have to call in a whole lot of favours, but still, if something was worth doing, it was worth doing well. And besides, given how washed out Marty looked at the moment, he'd need some time to gather his strength for the night she was planning. How many times had they made love that night? If you counted the next morning, and Kensi most certainly did, it was four. Four wonderful, magical times. She been surprised she'd actually been able to walk the next morning, let alone think straight.

"It's only hair," he soothed as Densi put up his lip and prepared to join his mother's howls. "It'll grow back." _God, I hope it grows back. Sam can carry off that whole 'chrome dome' look, but I'm not sure I can. And my ears stick out too much for comfort. That's why I try to keep them covered._

Kensi wiped her eyes and snuggled in beside them. "I hope so. Otherwise I'm going to have to knit you a hat."

"You can't knit."

"I could learn." Kensi looked at Densi and smiled. "We've confused him. Look at his little face. He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry."

"He looks half-cut," Densi's father said somewhat callously. "Are you sure Callen's not been taking him to any bars behind our backs?"

"I made him promise to wait until we've toilet trained him." Kensi looked up and through the interior window she could see a flurry of activity in the corridor outside. "It looks like they're coming with the dialysis machine. How about you give him a kiss?" Judging from Densi's eyes he was overdue for a nap. _Great timing, kiddo. I really want to be with your Daddy right now._

"You and Densi – you're everything to me. You do know that?"

"I know that. And we feel the same way about you."

They were a family and they needed one another to be complete. And the wonderful thing was that had another family, who cared about them so much that they were now congregating outside the room, with cheerful expressions on their faces, despite the equipment that was being made ready.

This was going to be make or break time, Kensi realised, as she stood aside and watched the dialysis machine be wheeled into position. A nurse placed a pillow on the bed and then gently laid Marty's right arm on it, turning it over so that the inner arm lay exposed and ready. There was a tray of equipment ready beside her and Marty flashed a wan smile.

"You go take care of our baby boy. I'll be fine." The swab of antiseptic in the crook of his elbow was cold and familiar, and Marty automatically clenched his fist so that the veins would stand out and provide clear access for the needle he knew was coming. And he hated needles.

"I know." How come she always seemed to be walking away and leaving him? Kensi could feel her heart being torn in two.

"Would Mr Deeks mind terribly if I went to sit with him for a while?" Hetty could remember a time when her agent had nobody to name as next of kin, and was too proud to admit it. She could remember the look on his face that night and thought she recognised a similar expression on his face right now.

"I think he would like that, Hetty. I think he could do with some company right now. Only Densi's getting tired and…" Her voice trailed off helplessly.

Callen took a good look at Kensi, and thought that she looked as if she could do with a good friend, and a decent meal. It was also obvious that Densi wasn't the only member of the Deeks family who was running on empty right now. Someone needed to step in and take care of Kensi, and in Deeks' absence, he was going to assume that role.

"How about you let Hetty look after Deeks, and then Sam and I can look after you?"

There had been times when Kensi would have protested that she was fine, they were fussing over nothing. This was not one of them. The days of feeling like she had to prove herself, and most especially to prove that she was just as good as any man, were long gone. Now she knew when she needed help and was not too proud to accept it. It wasn't a sign of weakness, it was an acceptance that she was human. The whole team had been there whenever she and Marty had needed them, and they had supported them every single step of the way. She could trust them.

"I'd love that." Kensi could see that Hetty was already sitting beside the bed, saying something in a low voice and Marty was bending his head towards her as he replied.

Everybody needed to be needed. And sometimes you had to let people help you, because that was how they showed their love. Of course, there were times when you had to let people help you, because you really needed their help. One day, she and Marty would have to find some way of repaying all that kindness, all the love that had been showered upon them. But in the meantime, Kensi was just grateful to have a strong arm around her, and she leant in to Callen him with considerable relief. She was getting better at giving in gracefully, but them she'd had rather a lot of practice over the past few days.

"How about you go to your Uncle Sam?" she suggested to Densi, who looked completely content to be passed into another pair of arms. He really was proving to be a very sociable child, Kensi thought with relief. Things would have been so much more difficult if he'd been a clingy baby who only wanted to be Mommy. Although part of her wouldn't actually have minded being the only star in his baby-universe. It was all coming back to being needed again.

"Get used to seeing bald heads, Densi," Callen advised, still keeping his arm firmly around Kensi, who looked as if she needed all the love and support she could get. She was trying to be strong, but even Kensi had her limits. He was going to make sure she was looked after properly, before she crashed with a vengeance. The last thing anyone needed was Kensi collapsing and ending up in hospital too.

"I am not bald, G. How many times do I have to tell you that?" Sam said in mock indignation.

"I know – according to you it's a lifestyle choice. A conscious decision. I guess Deeks could say the same. Only his would be an unconscious decision."

"Same end result though: bald head." Kensi thought for a moment. "Only Marty's hair will already be growing back, won't it?" She looked at her son curiously. "I wonder if they'll have matching hair when the doctors finally take the bandages off?"

Sam tried not to laugh too hard at the picture that produced, for in truth Densi had a wispy covering that gave him an uncanny resemblance to a newly-hatched chicken and the thought of Deeks with a similar look was almost too priceless for words.

"Father and son haircuts?" Callen mused over the possibility and then it up as a bad job. "How about we go get you something to eat?"

"Donuts?" Kensi asked eagerly.

While something altogether more nutritious was actually what Callen had in mind, when she looked at him like that, he discovered he simply couldn't refuse her. And after eating healthily for nine months of pregnancy and beyond, what harm could a sugar binge do now?

"Why not?" he agreed.

"Great. And then I've got a favour to ask you both." She may as well strike while the iron was hot.

"A favour?" Sam looked instantly suspicious. "Please tell me you're not moving house again?" It had taken his back a week to recover after the last move, and Callen still complained that he had fallen arches. Besides, that was two times they'd played removal men for Kensi and Deeks – surely they'd earned a break?

"We're not moving. But we might just be going back to where it all began," Kensi said cryptically and Sam just knew he was going to get suckered into something he very well might live to regret.

* * *

><p><em>So Kensi wants to rewind time? I just hope that Deeks gets better quickly, because he's going to need all his strength...<em>


	25. Chapter 25

It would have been wonderful if, after just one session of dialysis, Marty bounced back to rude health the next day. It would have been wonderful, but completely unrealistic. Life wasn't like a TV show that had to cram life-threatening illness and total recovery into forty minutes. Real life involved a whole lot of waiting and wondering and worrying. Marty had a sneaking suspicion that any hair that did manage to grow back would be pure white. Still, on the positive side, at least the doctors had finally removed the device monitoring his internal brain pressure. On the negative side was the fact that the foley catheter was still firmly _in situ_. He was beginning to wonder if he would remember how to pee voluntarily when it was finally removed.

The main thing that was getting to him was boredom: total and utter boredom. After two weeks in hospital his world had contracted to right down to the four walls of his hospital room, and now that he was making slow steps to recovery, the rest of the team had cut back on their visits and were concentrating on trying to find who had ordered the savage beating that had so nearly ended his life. That was wholly understandable, but it meant the days were long and it was difficult to do anything except wonder what life would be like if his kidneys really had given up the ghost.

There was one bright star in Marty's otherwise bleak existence, and that was the daily visits from Kensi. More often that not, she brought Densi with her, but a hospital room was not the most exciting environment for a curious baby, and they were both terrified that if they turned their backs for a second he would take a header off the bed and crash down onto the floor.

"I'm bored," he announced mournfully, as Kensi came in for her early morning visit.

"Hi there, Bored. I'm Kensi." She sipped her coffee slowly and watched the almost Pavlovian reaction. At least Marty was looking human again – the waxy pallor of extreme illness had disappeared, along with the dark brown smudges underneath his eyes. Now he just looked pissed off with life in general.

"Very funny. And you could have got me one." Only caffeine was forbidden until the doctors reached a decision on whether his kidneys were shot or if, by some miracle, the dialysis had spurred them back into doing what they did best. And this was the first time since the assault that Marty had actually wanted coffee. The smell wafting towards him was so tempting, he could almost feel his mouth watering in anticipation. _Talk about the forbidden fruit being the sweetest._

"Want a sip?" Kensi held the cup practically under his nose.

_This is like cruelty to dumb animals. Of course I do._ "Better not." Marty had never known he had such will-power.

"Go on. Just one sip," she tempted. "What harm can one sip possibly do?"

_This is pretty much what that snake did in the Garden of Eden, isn't it? What the hell's got into her?_ "No. I don't want to risk screwing things up." Marty tried to put on a noble and self-sacrificing expression, but thought he probably only managed to look like he was in need of remedial therapy.

"The doctor said it would be okay." Kensi put the coffee down and then flung her arms around him. "It's fine, Marty. Everything's fine. They didn't want to say anything until they were certain, but your kidneys have started producing urine again and your bloods are looking good." She couldn't have sounded any more thrilled or delighted if he'd given her the Koh-i-Noor diamond.

"Really?" Marty had been steeling himself for another session of dialysis that afternoon. He had a stunned expression on his face as he tried to process the news. "They're sure?" It sounded too good to be true.

"One hundred per cent certain. Anna said that you've been peeing like a horse for the last twelve hours." She sounded as proud as punch. Never in his wildest dreams had Marty ever imagined them talking about this sort of subject, or that Kensi would think the fact he was producing prodigious quantities of urine was something completely wonderful.

"I did think Anna was abnormally attentive last night when she kept coming in every hour or so to check on me, but I just thought she liked me," he said modestly.

"Face it – she was more interested in your pee than in you." Kensi was almost bounding off the walls with excitement. "Marty – you're going to be okay. Really okay. They just want to keep you in for another couple of nights, and then you can come home on Friday."

If he had looked stunned before, now Marty was doing an uncanny imitation of a fish left out of water for too long, with his mouth hanging open and unable to form words properly. After a few abortive attempts at talking, he finally managed to take a deep breath. "Home? I can come home?"

"You can come home," Kensi agreed. "Now, how about you open that mouth again and kiss me properly? Kiss me like you mean it."

He took her at her word. "Like that?"

Kensi's head was spinning. "Exactly like that. I'm glad to see you can remember. It's been a while."

"We've got a lot of time to make up." _And I've got two more days in here before the weekend. How do you expect me to hang on after reminding me exactly what I've been missing?_

"You want the rest of the good news?" she said temptingly.

"There's more? Okay – Callen and Sam got the guys who worked me over?"

Her face fell. "Oh God – I'm sorry – I wish it was that. They still haven't managed to get a lead on those bastards. But they will. You know that. They won't let it rest until they find them." _Or until Hetty has to pull them off the case and it gets assigned to the dead man's dump, with all the other unsolved cases_. "You want to take another guess?"

There was something about the look in her eyes, or perhaps more accurately, where her eyes were looking. "The catheter?" he ventured.

"Got it in one."

"I just hope they got it in one when they put the damn thing in." Marty tried very hard not to wince when he thought about his new plumbing arrangements

"Why do men make such a fuss about such a little thing as a catheter?" Kensi mused and then caught herself. "No, don't answer that one. It's no big deal, I had one after I had Densi."

"It's not a little thing. You should know that. And you've certainly never complained before."

"That's not what I mean, and you know that, Marty Deeks." _I've never had any complaints in that department, as you well know, sunshine._

_Well, at least we agree on something. I think_. "Anyway, it's different for guys. It's more personal."

"Yeah, right. Make me laugh, why don't you?"

"You won't be smirking like that if it all goes horribly wrong," he warned.

"No – I'll just trade you in for a newer model with no performance issues."

Sam stopped dead in the doorway. "You want me to go away again and pretend I didn't hear that?" _I'm pretty sure that when people say 'get a room', they don't mean a hospital room with no lock on the door._

"Don't be stupid. Marty's just being squeamish about the catheter." Kensi watched in astonishment as Sam shuddered. "Honestly, what is it with you guys and catheters?"

"I could draw you a diagram, only I might throw up." Sam decided it was time to change the subject. "Is it true then? Your kidneys have kicked back into action?"

"Full throttle. Take a look at the bag if you don't believe me."

"Too much information. Way too much information. I'll definitely pass on that one." Sam was grinning from ear to ear. "You're getting your free pardon then?"

"Going home for the weekend." Marty reached up and touched the bandages around his head. "And with any luck, they'll take the sutures out of my head and I can get rid of this too." This time he'd remember to tell them about his phobia regarding stitches, because he certainly didn't want a repeat of the previous time. That poor nurse… he still felt guilty when he thought about it. But she was taking stitches out of his butt and it was painful, and it was partly her fault, after all.

"I've got used to the turban effect. You actually look kind of cute." Kensi was still trying to work out what he would look like bald. While she was hoping for Billy Zane or even Bruce Willis, she had this awful feeling he might look more like Howie Mandel. Not that Howie wasn't cute, he just wasn't sexy. And they'd all looked a whole lot better with hair. Well, maybe not Howie.

"That's because you can't see his sticky-out ears," Sam said kindly. "That's the real reason Deeks wears his hair long." He stroked his own left ear thoughtfully. "I have lovely ears – small, neat and perfectly formed. Plus, they lie flat against my head."

"Ears are erogenous zones," Kensi informed him. "So, the bigger the ear, the greater the pleasure."

"Put him down, Kensi. The man's not even out of hospital yet and already you're planning on subjecting him to some marathon sex session?" _I thought that was going to wait until Callen and I had everything sorted? We've still got all the fine details to get put into place. You can't rush these things, you know. And you might want to give Deeks a couple of days to get back on his feet before you have him flat on his back again._

"I wouldn't object. Not exactly. Not as long as she's gentle with me." Marty felt like punching the air with joy. He was getting out of here and he was going home to his exceptionally hot wife, who looked like she'd been as lonely as hell. Life was very sweet indeed. Now, the only thing that was left was to get that catheter out and make sure everything was in full working order. He certainly didn't want an equipment failure at lift-off.

* * *

><p><em>Evil plot bunny's ears are twitching with delight at the prospect of a new and unusual maim for Deeks...<em>  
><em>Come on people! Even I have my limits... they might be few and far between but would I really mess with his junk? We-ell - how about I plead the 5th on that one?<em>


	26. Chapter 26

Kensi been warned not to expect Marty to be released before midday and took full advantage of the luxury of not having to leap out of bed and rush around madly before heading out to the hospital at the crack of dawn. By some miracle, Densi behaved like a perfect angel that morning. She just hoped this wasn't a bad sign and that he was planning to behave for the rest of the day. Given his track record of going from smiling delight to screaming, red-faced fury in the blink of an eye, she wasn't holding out much hope. Night-times had been particularly trying without his beloved bunny: Densi just refused to settle without it and would howl piteously before falling asleep with exhaustion. There were some nights when Kensi was so tired by the time she finally put him down that she was sure she would sleep through an earthquake. She'd hunted everywhere and practically turned the house upside-down in her search, but the toy rabbit was nowhere to be found.

"Daddy's coming home today, so you'll be a good boy, won't you?" she begged. "Because Daddy's not been well." The last thing Marty needed was a baby crying all night. She could do without it too

Densi beamed happily and then let out a large belch, which seemed to please him even more. Taking that as a sign of acquiescence, Kensi gave a final check around the room to make sure everything was perfect and then looked out of the window anxiously. It was nearly eleven thirty and in another three minutes Nell would be late… Just as she was about to check her watch again, Nell's familiar red Mini pulled up.

"Everything's in the usual places and Densi's been fed." Kensi just about bowled Nell over as she rushed through the door.

"And good morning to you too, Kensi," Nell muttered and went into the family room, where Densi sat in his bouncy chair, kicking his legs straight out in the air. "Hey there, gorgeous! Want to see what Auntie Nell's bought you?" She pulled a stuffed bunny out of her purse and the kicks grew quite frantic as Densi stretched his hands out imploringly, while burbling away.

"Okay, okay. Bun-bun's coming." Nell held out the toy and watched in fascination as Densi promptly shoved one ear into his mouth. "You really like bunnies, don't you?" At least he was content with the furry variety, rather than the ones that appeared in _Playboy_ magazine. She was pretty sure Callen didn't know that she found his stash, hidden in that pocket in the side of the leather recliner chair. Nell hated that chair and had plans to get rid of it as soon as possible, only she'd have to be sneaky, as Callen had some unaccountable fondness for it. There really was no accounting for men and their lack of taste, whether it was Callen and that awful chair, or Densi with that rabbit, which had a rather evil expression on its face. But it had been the only one left in the shop, and Kensi had sounded desperate, so Nell had grabbed it and run. And Densi didn't seem to mind in the slightest, so that was fine.

* * *

><p>Anna grabbed Kensi as she rushed past. "I hoped I'd catch you. I just wanted to wish you and Marty all the best."<p>

"That's so sweet of you." Kensi was genuinely touched.

"Listen – I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I've seen how you two are together and…" Anna blushed. "And it's just that he has been very ill. So, when you get home, you might want to take things slowly?"

Kensi could feel herself blushing too. "Were we that obvious?"

"Kind of." _Definitely. All of the nurses felt quite jealous._

"I'll be gentle with him," Kensi said magnanimously. _Because I can do gentle. And I can do slow and soft and all the things that make it feel as if you're going to make love forever and ever and you're so wrapped up in the moment that it feels like time has stopped._

Marty was sitting on the side of the bed, swinging his legs idly to and fro. It was still a shock to see him without the familiar rumpled hair, but already there was a good half inch of regrowth. "At last!" he complained. "I've been waiting for ages."

"I got here as fast as I could," Kensi said mildly. "Going stir crazy, are we?"

"Kind of." Marty slid off the bed and then hitched frantically at his jeans as they slithered down onto his hips.

"God, you've gotten skinny." He'd dropped a good ten pounds, Kensi reckoned, and looked taller and leaner than ever. "I'm going to have to feed you up."

"I can think of other things I'd rather have you do."

"You just keep thinking, Marty – that's what you're good at." Kensi took another look at him. "Do you want to tell me why you shaved?"

"It looked stupid, having a beard that was longer than my hair. This way, they should grow in about even."

"You are not having one of those big, bushy beards and looking like you're trying out for the remake of Grizzly Adams."

"I could have a really long beard and look like one of the guys from ZZ Top?" he suggested hopefully.

"You could – but then you'd have to find yourself another wife." Sometimes Kensi thought Don Johnson had a lot to answer for, making designer stubble fashionable. Of course, in Marty's case his look was mainly predicated by the fact he was too lazy to shave on a regular basis.

"Guess I'll have to keep it under control then."

"Does that mean I'm stuck with you?" Kensi rested her head on her shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I've missed this."

"Me too." Marty rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I've missed you."

"So how about we go home?"

"You've no idea how good that sounds."

Kensi delved into the holdall and pulled out hat. "I thought you might want to wear this – for old times' sake." It was a slightly battered Stetson that they had bought over a year ago in Galveston. "All the nice girls love a cowboy, after all." She perched it on his head at a rakish angle.

"Are you wearing the boots?" Marty watched as Kensi hitched up the leg of her jeans. "Cool." He fidgeted anxiously. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"In a rush to leave us, Mr Deeks?" Anna raised one eyebrow and handed across a large paper bag. "Don't forget your medicines. And don't forget to take them either."

"I'll make sure he takes them," Kensi promised. "If I have to stand over him."

Anna took a look at the cowboy boots and the Stetson and sighed inwardly. She was pretty sure they would have a bull whip back home. "I know I can rely on you to look after him. Just don't forget what I said, will you?"

"Of course not." Kensi looped her arm through Marty's and propelled him towards the door before he could ask any awkward questions.

Watching them walk slowly down the corridor, Anna wondered why all the really cute guys were taken. "Make sure you get plenty of rest, Marty," she called out and then wondered why she was bothering. Rest was clearly the last thing on their minds right now.

* * *

><p>"Please tell me you haven't organised a surprise 'welcome home' party?" Marty begged as he caught sight of not only Nell's Mini, but Hetty's Jaguar parked outside their house.<p>

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise, would it?"

"You know what I mean." It was incredible how tired he felt, after doing something as simple and basic as walking a few hundred yards and then being driven home. For some reason Marty felt completely done in, and his legs were shaking when he got out of the car. _I am so out of condition._

"They came over to look after Densi." Kensi looped her arm around his waist. "You want to lean on me?"

"Yeah." He stopped just short of the front door and looked around with satisfaction. "It's so good to be home." There had been a few days when Marty had wondered if he would ever get home and reclaim his old life back.

"Tell me about it." Kensi pushed open the door and they went inside, to be greeted by the sight of Hetty sitting cross-legged on the floor and building a tower of bricks for Densi, who was completely absorbed in the whole process.

"Welcome home, Mr Deeks." Hetty unfolded her legs and stood up in one fluid movement. "Although you are looking a little peaky." _Actually, you look positively scrawny. Although the hat is rather dashing. I've always been partial to cowboys, but then most red-blooded American women are. I blame Bonanza – all those handsome men on their horses…_

"How about you sit down before you fall down?" Kensi steered Marty towards the couch and watched as he collapsed gratefully.

"Nice hat, Marty." Nell came through with Densi's bottle. "You want to feed him?"

"I guess." This was what he'd been waiting for: just being home with his hot wife in those boots and his cute son, who invariably had a nap after a feed. _Now, if Hetty and Nell would just say goodbye, we'll be all set, _Marty thought._ Just me, Kensi and a world of possibilities._

Densi, however, had other thoughts. He took one look at the stranger in the hat and burst into tears. Things didn't get any better when Marty took off the Stetson and Densi just glanced at his father's new skinhead look in abject horror before screaming in a manner fit to bring the house down. It really was no surprise at all when Hetty and Nell made a quick exit, but it didn't look as if the adult members of the Deeks household would get any quality time any time soon.

"Welcome home, Marty," Kensi said wearily, as she paced up and down the room, patting Densi on the back and trying to turn his head so that he wasn't screaming directly into her ear. When she got no response, she turned around to find him sprawled out on the sofa, dead to the world.

"Looks like it's just you and me, kiddo. Again." Men. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered. The one she wanted in bed and asleep was shrieking like a banshee and the one she wanted in bed and fully awake was crashed out on the sofa. How come real life couldn't be more like the movies?

* * *

><p><em>Flip - evil plot bunny has metamorphosised and got himself back into the story. Now that's sneaky...<em>


	27. Chapter 27

By the time Marty finally woke up, it was mid-afternoon and the house was blessedly quiet.

"Nice to see you're back with us." Kensi was perched on the sofa beside his feet and he had the sneaking suspicion she'd been there for quite some time.

"You were watching me sleep, weren't you?"

"Uh huh. You looked so like Densi, it was uncanny."

"It's probably got something to do with the lack of hair." He ran his hand over his head, still trying to get used to the soft bristles instead of much longer locks. Knowing his luck, it was going to grow in really curly.

"No, it's more the fact that you both purse your mouths up."

"Like we want to be kissed?" he asked hopefully.

"I was going to say 'like you're both pouting', but kissing sounds better." Kensi just wished Densi would develop one trait that she could trace back to herself. Right now it seemed as if he was 100% his Daddy's boy and while she loved that, it was also rather frustrating.

"Kissing feels better too." Marty sat up and looked around. "Where is he, by the way?"

"Densi? Callen and Sam came over and took him out for a bit." Actually, she'd called them in desperation and explained about Densi's sudden aversion to his father's new look.

"Okay. It's me, isn't it? I set him off. I look like a complete freak, don't I? You reckon I should find a ball cap or something to put on?" _I must look really bad for Densi to take one look at me and start screaming. And if he was like that, what are the guys going to say? I'll never hear the end of this – I just know it._

"It's not that bad." Behind her back, Kensi's fingers were firmly crossed. _Once it's a bit longer and it hides that awful scar from the operation, it'll be fine. But at the moment, it just makes you look so ill, and kind of fragile. And that's not how I think of you. I always think of you a laughing and joking around and being kind of indestructible. Only you're not, are you? You had a pretty close brush with mortality back there. And everytime I see that scar, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you here right now._

"You really are a terrible liar. Except when you're in character, of course. So how about you pretend to be this hot girl whose really been missing her man? And then I could take off those boots you're wearing… " Marty let his fingers run slowly down her leg. "… and who knows what might happen next?" He had a pretty good idea though.

"How about I tell you that Sam and Callen are pulling up outside right now?" Kensi pulled down the leg of her jeans. "But you hold onto that thought though, because it was really working for me."

He leant back and stared up at the ceiling in despair. "It was working for me too. Believe me on that." There was something behind his back – something that was too small to be a sofa pillow. Reaching round, Marty pulled out a small furry rabbit, with slightly crossed eyes and a malevolent expression. "Okay – no wonder the poor kid's been pitching fits. Who gave him this and what happened to his real bunny?"

Kensi looked at the stuffed animal with distaste. "I've never seen it before." _Who would be warped enough to give that to an innocent little boy?_

"It's definitely Densi's. The ear is soaking wet where he's been chewing on it." Marty held the offending object out at arms' length.

"Don't look at me like that. What do you expect me to do with it?" Kensi got up and went to answer the door.

"Entering your second childhood, Deeks?" Callen pushed the stroller with the air of one who had done this many times before and Marty noticed with a pang how at ease he appeared with Densi, and vice versa. It felt strange to watch his son react quite so enthusiastically when Callen undid the safety harness and lifted him out. Strange and uncomfortably disconcerting.

_I'm jealous. And I'm jealous of Callen, of all people. Callen, who's been there every step of the way for me and my family. This is ridiculous. _But thinking about it didn't make it any easier.

"We would have brought you a stuffed bear or something, if only we'd known." Sam came in, toting the diaper bag with marvellous disdain, as if it was the latest essential accessory for an NCIS agent. "Anyone fancy a coffee?" He wandered through into the kitchen and started to prepare a fresh pot.

_Okay, this is my house. Not the Mission off-shoot. Haven't these guys ever heard of asking before they just help themselves to my coffee __and__ my son? It doesn't matter that they've probably been over here every day, helping out while I was in the hospital. It's different now. And I'm not being childish. Am I?_

"Did you get him this?" Marty held out the rabbit and watched as Densi's eyes lit up with pleasure and he stretched out one chubby hand. _Oh God – is this the only way he's going to come near me- if I'm holding this repulsive rabbit?_

Callen looked at it and tried not to shudder. "Nope. Never seen it before in my life. Maybe Hetty bought it?" _That thing looks positively evil. It's practically guaranteed to give any normal child nightmares. Densi should be fine though._

"Not likely. An original Steiff, complete with a hump on its back is much more Hetty's style." Marty put the bunny down and held out his arms. "You want to come to Daddy, Densi?"

Callen had not missed the slightly chilly tinge to the air, or the way Deeks was looking at him. It might have been his imagination, but Deeks' eyes seemed to be slightly narrowed. Of course, that might just be a side-effect from the surgery. Still, there was no point in making a bad situation worse, so he handed Densi across with alacrity.

"Hey buddy." Marty regarded his son carefully, well-attuned to the signs of imminent distress. And there they were: the slightly furrowed brow, the wringing motion of the hands… desperate times clearly called for desperate measures, so he grabbed the bunny and waved it frantically in front of Densi, who did a miracle transformation and was wreathed in smiles once more. Still, just to be on the safe side, Marty turned the baby around, so that Densi was leaning back against him, rather than facing him. Densi promptly picked up the toy and waved it enthusiastically at Callen. _Great. It looks like I've transplanted in my son's affections by some skanky toy and G Callen, the man whose hair is all of a quarter inch longer than mine. Brilliant. Some home-coming this is._

"You want some coffee, Deeks?" Sam popped his head round the door.

"I'm fine." _I think I'd choke if I drank coffee right now._

Stunned at this refusal, Sam took a closer look and didn't like what he saw. "Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Marty tried to sound polite, but failed rather spectacularly.

"Because you look like shit, Deeks. Doesn't he, Callen?"

"I've seen you look better," Callen said tactfully, making frantic signals for Sam to shut up.

"Okay, why don't you just get it over with?" There was no disguising the hostility in Marty's stare.

"Get what over with?"

"The smart remarks about my hair. Or rather,the fact I don't currently have any. Not to mention the fact that it freaks my son out so much he'd rather be with you than have to look at me. I'm just surprised you haven't bought me a wig."

Sam tried not to look guilty_. There was no need. We just borrowed one from Hetty's collection. Only we forgot to bring it in from the car. Luckily enough, because someone seems to have had a sense of humour by-pass today._

Callen decided it was definitely time to pour some oil on troubled waters. "Deeks, we're worried about you. All of us. We've been worried about you for over two weeks." _Shit Deeks, you nearly died on us. You think we're going to get over that easily? I'm not. You look like you couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag right now. So save your strength and just concentrate on getting better._

"I wasn't worried about Deeks," Sam said quietly.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I wasn't worried about you, because I was terrified. Okay?" he glared at Deeks. "Don't you ever dare do that to me again, understand? You got away with it once, but next time…" The sentence tailed off and the unspoken words lay hanging in the air between them.

Marty stared back and for several moments their eyes locked. "Message received. I'm being a jerk, aren't I?"

"You're just being Deeks. And I've kind of missed that." Sam caught himself just in time. "Not much, you understand. Just occasionally. Once, maybe twice at the most. No more than that."

"We understand, Sam." Kensi felt like kissing him. "And we're feeling the love." _And once Marty gets over this green-eyed monster and Densi settles down, everything will be fine. Only by the time that happens, I bet Densi will have started teething. Wow. Life holds so many pleasures right now. Maybe I should go back to work for a rest? _

And actually, that sounded like a really good idea right now. Marty was going to be off work for a while; it would give him and Densi time to bond and there wasn't any point in both of them being at home all day. Well, Kensi was pretty sure they'd find some way to kill the time, but that was hardly the point, was it?

"And the hair is fine. Better than I thought. Make you look like one of the team," Callen observed, relieved that the crisis seemed to have been averted. "The NCIS look, if you like."

"I don't, thank you very much."

Kensi simply had to ask. "How come you never suggest I should get my hair cut, Callen?"

"Because you're the exception that proves the rule?" _Or because I'm just trying to make Deeks feel better? He looks kind of like Gollum right now and I feel sorry for him._

Marty had no doubts. "Because you've got the most beautiful hair, baby girl." He looked at Callen and Sam. "Come on – you can't deny that."

"Probably not. Yours wasn't that bad, actually."

It pained Sam, but he had to agree. "It kind of suited you."

"Okay, now I know I definitely had some brain damage, because I thought I just heard you say I had great hair."

"Not great hair," Sam protested. "Pretty average really. If you'd just brushed it from time to time, it would have been better."

"That's rich, coming from a bald guy who doesn't even own a hairbrush." Kensi stood up. "And it's been great seeing you guys, but I'm sure Hetty wants you back at the Mission."

"I am so not feeling the love right now." But Callen was almost certain that Deeks would be before too long. If he had the strength to make it up the stairs, that was.

* * *

><p><em>I almost feel sorry for evil plot bunny. Almost. But then I had to sit through a two hour policy and planning meeting today and am still trying to recover.<em>


	28. Chapter 28

"You can't call a boiled egg and some toast a proper meal." Kensi let her fingers run slowly down his spine, tracing each individual vertebra and worrying anew at how thin Marty was. He'd clearly had no appetite for dinner and had only eaten that egg because she'd been fussing over him. And it wasn't enough to keep a kitten alive, far less a man who stood six foot two.

"I couldn't eat any more." But Marty was suddenly hungry for something more now, and the slow, sensual massage was making his appetite all the sharper.

"I could never have guessed." Kensi's fingertips were replaced by her mouth and she dropped a series of kisses, studding them right the length of his back. "That scar healed beautifully." Her tongue licked a languorous trail of fire and Marty found himself clenching his butt as tight as possible as her touch aroused him further.

"It was all that tender, loving care you gave me. Plus the ice cream."

"You want ice cream?" Kensi bounced onto her knees. "I'll go get some. What flavour? We've got strawberry and vanilla and…"

"I don't want ice cream. I just want you." He rolled over and pulled her back down into his arms. "You're all I want. And you're everything I need."

"But you're so skinny!" Kensi wailed. "I can count all your ribs just by looking. And your hip bones are jutting right out and sticking in to me."

"I could move?" he offered, knowing just how well that suggestion would go down.

"Don't you dare even think about it. You stay right where you are." Kensi leant over the side of the bed and pulled out the bullwhip. "Or I could make you?" she added sweetly and let the tip tickle his chest.

"Promises, promises." Right now, she could make him do anything – within limits. For some strange reason, Marty felt totally done in again, when he spent most of the day lying around doing nothing. Starting tomorrow, he was going to get back into shape. Slowly. Very slowly. A walk pushing Densi in his stroller would be a good start. Plus, Densi would be facing forward, so he wouldn't have to see the perplexed look of anguish on his son's face.

"Sickness and health," Kensi reminded him. "That's what I promised, and I meant it. Just don't take it quite so literally next time, okay?" She moved to prop herself up on her elbows and stared down at him. "I love you so much it hurts, Marty."

"So how about I kiss it better? Make it all go away?"

He was smiling, that old familiar smile and his lips felt sweeter than ever. Kensi could feel a pulse beating in the hollow of her throat as the kiss deepened and Marty's tongue was doing the most incredible things, things that made her feel quite dizzy. He could make the world go away, just by looking at her, and when he touched her like that, it felt as if nothing else existed.

"You lie back. Let me love you."

How could any sane man refuse an offer like that? The room was dim, and Kensi's skin seemed to glow with an inner light as she soared over him briefly, her hair falling down on either side of her face, so that it enveloped them in a sweet smelling cloud. And then she moved, turned around so that he could see the long column of her back and her sweet, round ass as she bent over. Suddenly the time for rational thinking was gone, was long past, because that sweet mouth was doing wicked things that blew his mind apart and Marty found that his hands were clutching at the sheets and his toes were curling up.

"Kensi? It's been kind of a long time… maybe you should… you know?"

"Maybe you should just shut up?" she suggested sweetly. "I know exactly how long it's been. Believe me. I could tell you how many hours it's been, but I'm guessing you don't really care." Her face floated back into view, along with her fabulous breasts.

"It's been too long." And if it was much longer, Marty wasn't sure he could hold on. He hadn't felt so close to the edge, so out of control since he was some callow kid with a condom in his wallet.

"Far too long. A little less conversation and a lot more loving, Mr Deeks."

She was straddling him, and gazing directly into his eyes as one hand reached down and found him unerringly, sighing inadvertently at the touch. "I've missed this so much." Kensi lowered herself down infinitesimally, millimetre by millimetre, enjoying the control, the sense of power, the sweet inevitability and the way Marty's eyes grew wider.

"Me too." It was slipping into heaven and sweet surrender. This was how he knew he was home and that everything was going to be alright. It was going to be more than alright, because he was totally enveloped by her and when Kensi started that slowing rocking of her hips and the familiar smile started to creep across her face and a soft flush blossomed on her breasts he knew that heaven was only seconds away.

"I missed you. Missed this." Kensi closed her eyes and tilted her head back so that her hair was almost tickling her ass and the movement drew him in deeper and Marty could no longer hold on any longer . His hips jerked upwards once and then twice and he reached up and placed his hands on Kensis hips, pulling her down onto him. All at once he was into a rhythm that demanded its own beat, so that he was no longer in any control at all and it was beyond amazing. Kensi looked at him as the first jolting shudder hit her and saw that his eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide as the orgasm rocked through them.

"I told you so." Kensi sounded very content and slightly self-satisfied, not to mention fulfilled.

Marty had no conception of how much time had passed, and only knew that he was now lying in a boneless heap on the bed, his head cradled on Kensi shoulder and that she was stroking his head. "Told me what?"

"That it would be alright. You would be alright."

That remark was greeted by bemused silence.

"I'd say that performance would definitely get a standing ovation," Kensi elaborated. "All that needless worry about the catheter?"

A slow grin crept across Marty's face. "Maybe not just yet? But give me ten minutes, and I'll definitely give you a standing ovation."

"Seeing you've been ill, I'll do that." Kensi dropped a kiss on his head, and found the soft bristles were becoming familiar already. And then maybe she could force-feed him some ice cream and try to get a little more meat on those lovely bones?

* * *

><p><em>It's nice when slushy and randy plot bunnies join paws and act together, isn't it? makes a change from the usual mayhem.<em>


	29. Chapter 29

Of course, what happened ten minutes later was that Marty was soundly asleep. Not that Kensi had expected anything else. And it was rather nice to lie here, knowing he was home and he was safe and that there was no reason why all their dreams could not come true. Everything was complete once again. She sighed with contentment, slipped her hand around his waist in drifted off into peaceful oblivion.

* * *

><p>It was midday, and the sun was beating down from a cloudless sky. The reflected glare from the sand and the ocean was blinding, but it was so good to be out again in the fresh air that Marty didn't care. He walked slowly along the beach, feeling the soft sand shift underneath his feet and gave silent thanks for all the little thing in life that made living worthwhile: all the things he'd thought he might never share in again, like the frills of white that topped each wave like frothy lace, the way the wind smelt of salt and the faint mewling sounds of the gulls that circled lazily overhead as they rode on the thermals. The beach stretched on ahead of him, inviting further exploration, only there was one gull that was keening so loudly it was difficult to think with the slightly unworldly sound intruding into his thoughts…<p>

He woke up with a start, realising that it wasn't a bird, it was Densi, crying in the next room. Sleep was forgotten in an instant, as the plaintive noise was not the cry of a hungry baby, or one that was wet, but the anguished sobs of a child in distress.

"Hang on, kid," he mumbled, grabbing his jeans from the floor and pulling them on, desperate to get to Densi before Kensi woke up. It had been impossible to ignore the shadows underneath her eyes, or the finely drawn look on her face. Some husband he was, putting his wife through all this and then frightening the living daylights out of his son. _Way to go Deeks. When you screw up, you screw up big time._ Staggering slightly and only just managing not to fall over and go crashing down onto the floor, he went through to the nursery.

There was a silver path of moonlight on the floor, casting a pale, glimmering light into the room, o where the distraught baby lay howling in his cot. The sky was just showing the first flush of dawn, with a coralline infusion of colour lightening the darkness and giving promise to a new day ahead.

"Hey, little man. Did you have a bad dream?"

Densi looked up at his father, eyes round and wide with fear.

"It's alright. Everything's alright. I'm here and I won't let anything happen to you." Instinctively, without thinking about what sort of reaction he might provoke, he bent down to pick up the baby, talking all the time in a low voice. The sobs lessened slightly as Marty cradled Densi to him, and started the slow sway from side to side that every parent instinctively knows from primal memory. "Daddy's home and I'm never going away again. I promise. I won't leave you and Mommy again."

Densi had got to the stage where the pitiful sobs had given way to loud gulps as he inhaled air and Marty started to pat his back softly. "I missed you, baby boy. I missed you and Mommy." _And I thought I was going to miss so much more. I very nearly missed everything. _

He started to walk slowly around the room, talking in an was nearly morning, as near as made no difference. There wasn't a whole lot of point in going back to bed now, not when Densi was finally calm, with his thumb stuck firmly in his mouth. And this felt so good, so indescribably good, to finally be holding him again, doing what a father should do – which was to be there, unconditionally.

"I nearly bailed out on you, just like my Mom and Dad did to me. It won't happen again, I promise. I'm going to be here for you, every step of the way." The sins of the past were not going to be repeated so that they might scar another generation. No way was he going to be that sort of father. If his parents had taught him one thing, it was how not to look after a child.

It seemed stupid to be stuck inside when the sun was starting to rise and a new day was beginning, a new day that held infinite promise and in which anything could happen. So he grabbed a blanket and draped it around Densi and went downstairs, out onto the back porch.

"One day, when you're older, we'll get up early, drive down to the beach and catch us a few waves. How about that? Just you, me and the ocean. Maybe we'll let Mommy come down later, with some coffee for us? But you and me, kid – we'll ride the ocean with the sun on our backs and let the waves take us home." There was so much to look forward to, so many things he wanted to do with his son. Not necessarily big things, because when it came down to it, this was the sort of memory he would always treasure, sitting here on the porch as the dawn light made everything radiant, and just spending time with his son. Life didn't get a whole lot better than this.

Densi gave one of his gurgling babbles and looked up at his father, gazing solemnly up at him for several moments before finally smiling tentatively.

"You're getting accustomed to my new look, aren't you? Don't get too fond of it, because it's going to grow back. We'll leave the buzz cut to Uncle Callen, I think."

The air was fresh and the birds were singing and his son wasn't screaming fit to rupture himself. And last night had shown that the catheter hadn't done any permanent damage. Yup, it was going to be a good day. It was going to be a perfect day. The only thing that could possibly make it better was a cup of coffee.

* * *

><p>Kensi yawned and rolled over sleepily, stretching her hand out to the other side of the bed. But where she was expecting to find warm flesh, there was only cold, empty space.<p>

_Please don't tell me I dreamt all that. Please don't let me be waking up to find this was all a dream and Marty's still ill and in hospital._

Only there was his watch on the dresser, and his shoes on the floor. It really was over and he was home. She'd managed to get through the nightmare, but only just. Kensi was well aware that she had clung on by the skin of her teeth. The clock showed it was after eight in the morning and she wondered vaguely how long it had been since she'd slept for such a long period of time. It had to be at least seven months, if not eight. That was what having a baby did – disrupted everything about your whole life, right down to your sleeping patterns.

_No sense in moaning about it. You knew what you were getting into. So life's changed? So what? Would you really change anything back?_

And the answer to that was easy – of course she wouldn't. She wouldn't change a single thing about her life, except maybe to wish that Marty wasn't quite so accident-prone.

_If you don't start to take more care of yourself, I'm going to be grey before I'm thirty-five. And we'll see how like being married to some haggard old wreck. _Kensi caught sight of herself in the hall mirror and shuddered. _Talk about the wreck of the Hesperus. Maybe I'm going to have to start putting on makeup before I go to bed?_

"Morning, gorgeous!" Marty was pottering happily around the kitchen, wearing only a pair of jeans and sipping coffee, while Densi sat contentedly in his bouncy chair on top of the breakfast bar.

"You need to go get your eyes tested. I think that head injury's affected your vision." Kensi scuttled over and hugged him and encountered chilly skin. "And you're freezing. Go put some clothes on."

"That's the first time you've ever said that to me. Most of the time you're telling me to take my clothes off." He looked at Densi and grinned.

"Marty, you're just out of the hospital and I don't want you going back in there with double pneumonia. Double septic pneumonia, if I know you." Kensi guided his coffee cup up to her lips and took a long, satisfying gulp.

"Or we could go back to bed?" he suggested hopefully. "And you could warm me up?"

"Sure – we could just put on the TV and leave Densi by himself for an hour or so. No problem. That works for me. Maybe give him a power drill to play with, while we're at it."

"He might sleep."

"Take a look at him – he's as bright as a button." Which was more than could be said for his mother. "Listen, you go upstairs, have a shower and get dressed. And I'll make some breakfast." _I'll get some weight back on you if it's the last thing I do._

"That sounds good. How about pancakes?" All of a sudden, Marty realised that he was ravenous. There was a large hole where his stomach should be and it was making these peculiar gurgling noises.

_Pancakes? You want pancakes – I'll make pancakes. How about pancakes with maple syrup and cream and anything else I can find that's calorific? And then I can sit and watch you eat them and try not to drool too much. _But Kensi could also have a little fun along the way. There was no sense in letting Marty think he had her wrapped around his little finger – even if he did."We'll see. But it's an awful lot of fuss so early in the morning. Maybe you could just have some oatmeal instead? That's a lot easier." It was almost comical, watching the way his face fell at the suggestion.

"I've been ill. And I've lost a lot of weight. You said so." It was like watching a little boy trying to wheedle his mother. He looked about eight right now. This was probably exactly what Densi was going to be like in a few years' time.

"I say a lot of things." Kensi pulled the packet of oatmeal down from the cupboard and placed it on the counter.

"I had oatmeal in the hospital." The pathos was palpable.

"That's nice. You were always telling me how good oatmeal was when I was pregnant. How healthy it was. And terribly good for keeping you regular. That's probably why they gave it to you in hospital – just in case." Kensi smiled brightly.

"There is nothing wrong with my digestive system." He looked highly indignant at the suggestion.

"Good. Let's just make sure it stays that way, shall we?"

Marty sloped off disconsolately, his shoulders visibly drooping with disappointment. Unseen in the kitchen, Kensi opened the fridge, got out the eggs and milk and started the preparations for pancakes, humming under her breath as she did so. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

* * *

><p>"I was thinking," Kensi said, as they strolled along the oceanfront. There was a fresh wind blowing in, and Densi was well-bundled up against the chill of an autumn day. After considerable wrangling, she'd managed to persuade Marty into a sweater and a jacket. All in all, it was considerably easier looking after a baby, although she had a sneaking suspicion that Densi was going to be as stong-willed as his father in the years to come. Marty seemed to be glad enough of the extra layers now though, even though it was a pretty sure bet he would never admit it. The wind was whipping some colour into his cheeks, and the cap pulled low over his head hid the most obvious signs of illness, so that he looked more like a slightly gaunt man, rather than one who had been two steps away from death.<p>

"Does it hurt?" Marty asked with mock-sympathy and then winced as she punched him on the arm. "What happened to all the tender, loving care?"

"My patience ran out after cooking the third batch of pancakes." Kensi looked at him incredulously. "Where did you put it all?" _And how come your belly's still flat? I'd have to work out every day for a week if I ate that much. My metabolism went all to hell after having Densi. Donuts. I used to love donuts… That little shop round the corner from the Mission did the most gorgeous ones, with custard filling and caramel frosting. They must have about million calories. And worth every single one._

"I was hungry," he said succinctly. "And I guess I'd worked up an appetite, what with all that exercise last night."

"Huh. Next time I'm going to have to make you work a little harder, if you're going to keep on eating like that."

"Promises, promises. So, do you want to tell me what you were thinking about or are you just keep on abusing me?"

Kensi took a deep breath. "I was thinking that while you're at home, I might go back to work." She looked anxiously across, wondering how this would go down.

"Really?" His face was completely unreadable.

"Well, it seems like the sensible thing to do. Hetty's a man down and I'd kind of like to see if I can break this case. I've got a personal interest, you see." _I want to kick the crap out of whoever did this to you._

"Okay." Marty jammed his hands into his pockets and stared out to sea. "I was wondering how long it would take."

* * *

><p><em>Did you know that cakes have no calories on a Friday? Because of this, I treated the Legal Services gang to fudge donuts from Greggs for our Friday coffee morning. And they were delicious... <em>

Enjoy the weekend, everyone


	30. Chapter 30

Gripping onto the handles of the stroller so tightly that her knuckles shone bone-white, Kensi felt her heart sink. "You don't think it's a good idea?" she ventured tentatively.

"Nope." Marty was turned away from her, but his back looked uncompromisingly hostile.

"Oh." Sure, during her pregnancy they'd spoken about how things would work out when the baby was born, and the necessity of finding really good child care, but the moment Densi was born that had all changed, with their entire focus being diverted to the baby. And she could understand how Marty felt, really she could. It seemed like a betrayal to even think of leaving Densi with someone else. Who could they trust to look after him properly? Apart from Hetty. And Nell. And Sam. And even Callen. None of whom were exactly in the market as full-time carers. And it made sense that she should stay at home, be a full-time mother. There was only one fly in the ointment, and it was a huge great hornet of a fly: Kensi wasn't ready to give up work. No way was she anywhere near ready. Sure, she was Densi's mother, but that didn't stop her being Kensi at the same time - her own person. Where was it written that it wasn't possible to be a wife, a mother, and an NCIS agent? Of course, Kensi couldn't think of any women who were actually performing all three roles, but somebody had to be the first, and if she had to rewrite all the rules, then that was exactly what she would do. But she couldn't do it alone – she was going to need Marty's help, need him to be with her every step of the way. She'd just assumed he would go along with her idea and was genuinely taken aback.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea." Marty turned around and stared at her. "I think it's a great idea." His stern face relaxed into a smile that seemed to stretch from ear to ear.

Kensi felt relief flood through her. Relief and the very definite feeling that she'd been had. "You had to string it out and play me along, didn't you?"

Marty nodded. It had been too good an opportunity to miss. "Seemed like pay-back for the pancakes, baby girl."

"I am so going to get you back for this," she vowed.

"We're supposed to be adults, remember? Setting a good example for the ankle-biter?"

"Yeah, and being smug like that is so mature, isn't it?"

Marty looked at her curiously. "Are you going to hit me again? In public? That could be interesting"

"Wait till I get you home," she vowed under her breath.

"I can't wait. Really." He bent down and released the straps holding Densi in the stroller. "This is what it's all about, isn't it?" Turning to face the ocean, Marty started talking, telling Densi all about the waves and how one day he was going to ride them and feel like he was on top of the world and there was nothing that could ever stop him.

Kensi knew exactly what he meant: the wide openness of the ocean, the fresh breezes and, most of all, just being together. "Life's good." It was more than that: life was very sweet indeed. "How about we walk a bit further and then stop off for a coffee?" That would be far enough for a first outing, she thought. And if he looked too tuckered out to manage the walk back, she could always jog back to the car and return to pick them up.

"Only if you promise to buy me a muffin."

"How could I possibly resist when you look at me like that?"

After walking for a while,and discussing her return to work, Kensi noticed that Marty was begun to lag behind. "You want to take over stroller duties?" she offered, in a casual, off-hand manner.

"Sure." Everything just seemed to be such an effort today: just walking was like wading through treacle. It seemed that was what major surgery and two and a half weeks in hospital, not to mention temporary kidney failure, did to you – it made you as weak as a kitten. Still, given the alternative, he wasn't about to complain. Marty took hold of the stroller handles gratefully, and let it take some of the strain, rather like a walking frame. _I feel like some old man, tottering along here. I'm never going to take anything for granted ever again. I've got a new chance of life and I'm going to celebrate every day._

"The coffee shop's right ahead." Kensi took a quick look and confirmed there was plenty of seating still available. "You want to sit outside?"

"Definitely. I was breathing recycled air in the hospital for far too long." The long walk might be pushing him to his limits, but the end was in sight and the ocean breeze had made Marty feel alive again, as if the inner corners of his mind had been swept clean. There was a table in the corner, with a clear view across to the ocean that would be perfect and he parked the stroller. "My treat, okay?"

"You won't get any arguments from me." Kensi settled herself comfortably and noticed that Densi was asleep, which meant she could have a few precious moments to herself. These were so far and few between that she treasured each and every occasion, even as she welcomed the way Densi would automatically look around for her each time he woke up. There was something wonderful about being the centre of his little universe, even if it was rather confining.

"Double chocolate muffin?"

"I guess I could choke it down." Well, she'd only had two pancakes at breakfast, and the walk had to have burned off at least 50 calories.

Marty was standing in the queue, weighing up the various merits of the carrot cake, bear claws, rocky road slices and muffins, and thinking that he might just go mad and get whole plateful and then arm-wrestle Kensi for them, when a hand clamped down painfully on his shoulder.

"You look like shit, Marty."

There were only a very few people in the whole world who called him that, as for some strange reason everyone seemed to call him 'Deeks'. Marty had never quite worked that one out. But this voice was eerily familiar, even if it had been a long time since he had last heard it. A very long time. And it was most definitely not a voice he'd ever expected to hear in LA again.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded in an undertone. "It's not safe."

"Chill out." A hand reached forward and pulled the cap off his head. "Jesus in a campervan. What the hell happened to your hair?"

Marty pointed to the scar. "I decided to have brain surgery for the fun of it. Seemed like a good idea at the time. And you still haven't told me why you're here."

"I came because of you. Because I owe you. And when I heard what was going on, I knew I had to come back." He shook his head sadly. "Looks like I arrived too late. They really did a job on you, didn't they?"

The barrista was asking for his order, and Marty gave it automatically, although he'd suddenly lost his appetite completely. "Not in here," he said firmly.

"Mine's a regular filter coffee, by the way."

"And a regular filter," Marty said wearily. He wasn't going to win on this, so he might as well save his energy for the battle that was bound to come. "You take the tray," he instructed and then stalked out as imperiously as a seriously underweight guy, with no hair and legs that felt like a couple of sticks of wilted celery could manage.

"Wikipedia! Long time no see. I thought I told you to look after Marty-boy here. You've not been doing a very good job, have you?" Ray settled himself down comfortably in a chair. "I knew you guys would get together," he continued jovially, as if it had only been last month since they had last met, instead of nearly four years.

"Your ex-wife, Nicole, had a helping hand in matters," Kensi said dryly.

"You were supposed to tell me when you finally saw sense," Ray complained. "You had my address and everything. So how come Nicole got to know before me?"

"There was the small matter of the fact she was driving the car that tried to kill us. That probably had something to do with it, don't you think, Marty?" Kensi thought it was probably not the time or the place to mention that she'd shot and killed Nicole after that particular altercation. Or indeed that she'd also managed to shoot Marty in the butt, although that hadn't been intentional, unlike the head-shot that had ended Nicole's life , which most definitely had been.

"I guess." Marty was looking at Ray suspiciously. "So, you want to tell me why you're really here?"

"Why do you always have to believe the worst about me?"

"Because I'm usually right?"

"Not fair. I'm a reformed character." Ray probably would have said more, only Densi chose that moment to wake up and announce the fact to the world with a loud and indignant cry that captured his parents' attention immediately.

"Oh my God. You guys had a baby." For maybe the first time in his life, Ray didn't have anything else to say.


	31. Chapter 31

"We had a baby. We also got married." Kensi waggled her ring finger under his nose. "And we've been kind of busy these past few years, so sorry if we didn't send you one of those round robin letters at Christmas-time. And actually, you've been kind of quiet too."

"I've been in witness protection," Ray protested.

"You've never played by the rules before, Ray." Marty looked at him carefully, noticing how uncomfortable and ill at ease the man seemed. Clearly, the intervening years had not been easy, for Ray now looked decidedly middle-aged and rather down at heel. "Exactly where are you staying?" There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he already knew the answer to that question.

"I was kind of hoping…" Ray let the sentence tail off and looked expectantly at his old friend.

"No way." Kensi not only saw the look, she interpreted it correctly and jumped in to intercept any misguided notions of misplaced loyalty her husband might have. Marty might have teetered dangerous on the wrong side of the tracks at one stage in his life, but he'd seen the writing on the wall and had subsequently made all the right decisions and choices, while Ray had made all the wrong ones. Looking at Ray was like seeing Marty through some reverse type of mirror – what he could so easily have become: charming, feckless and utterly amoral. She thought that she would trust Ray just about as far as she could throw him, while she would trust Marty with her life.

"You can't stay with two NCIS agents, Ray. Even you know that's stupid."

Ray wasn't above clutching at straws. "How about your old apartment?"

"That was rented by LAPD when I was undercover as Max Gentry. It was never mine. And why would I keep it on anyway, when I've got a home with Kensi?"

"Just in case?" Ray ventured.

Marty felt like hitting his head off the table. "This relationship didn't work out either, did it?" _All those things you said, Ray – about us not being like our fathers. You meant them at the time – but how long did it last? Till the end of the year? Your baby's first birthday?_

"She threw me out. Said I wasn't the man she thought I was. And I really tried, Marty."

"I'm sure you did." Kensi said sceptically. "How long for, that's the question."

"As long as I could."

"And the baby?" Marty had to ask, even if it was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. "What did you have?"

Ray's face lit up. "A little girl. And the image of her Mama. At least, she was, last time I saw her."

"Which was when?" Kensi noticed he didn't pull out a cell phone and display about 2000 photographs like any normal parent would – or was that just her?

"Two years ago," he admitted. "Coming up for three."

"So she'd have been about six months old when you left?" _About the same age as Densi is. How could you walk out on your kid, Ray?_ For a brief moment Marty tried to imagine never seeing Densi ageing, walking out and never coming back, never even looking back… and he could feel the anger start to boil up inside him.

"I guess. Kind of like yours there." Ray smiled at Densi, who was sitting on Kensi's lap, and she felt her arms tighten protectively around him. There was no way she was letting Ray hold her precious baby.

"There's a huge difference." Marty stared at him uncompromisingly, knowing that all they ahd in common was the past. "So, where exactly are you going to stay? Because I'm guessing you don't have much money?"

Ray tried very hard to look put-upon. "You guess right. The best job they could come up with for me was as a clerk in a convenience store."

"Long hours and hard work. Honest work though." Kensi was rather enjoying watching him squirm and wanted to ask what was so wrong with the job. Thousands of people worked as clerks – and supported their families. Of course, if you were used to working on the wrong side of the law, and weren't too bothered about little things like paying taxes, she could see how Ray might be discontented. Welcome to the real world.

"I might look up Nicole. For old times sake. She'll spring me a bed for a couple of nights." Ray perked up visibly at this thought.

"Okay. We really need to have a long talk. And not here either."

"I'll go get the car." Kensi handed Densi across with a hard look, which Marty easily interpreted, mainly because he was thinking the exactly the same thing: do not let him near our baby. "And I'll call Hetty to let her know we're coming in."

"Don't be mad at me. It was really tough. You've no idea how tough it was, Marty."

"You're right. I've no idea at all about how it would feel to walk out on my kid. And life here's been just peachy-keen. Completely smooth sailing, you know. We've not had it hard like you, Ray."

This wasn't going the way Ray had planned it, not at all. "You've changed. You've changed a lot."

"Of course I've changed. I've grown up for starters. And you never knew me, Ray. Not since we were kids. And later – when I was Max Gentry – that was just an act, it wasn't me."

"Are you sure?" Ray looked at him slyly. "All that anger had to come from somewhere."

"I was never Max. Never."

"Things might have been easier if you were. You wouldn't have ended up being targeted like that for starters." Ray took another long look at the scar curving across Marty's head and then at the pale, drawn face, with lines of pain and exhaustion still visible. "You really look like shit, Marty."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot, Ray."

"What else are friends for?"

Once upon a time, a lifetime ago, two boys had tried to buck the system and, by so to put two fingers up at the authorities and try take control of a pair of lives that were spinning out of control. Marty had never asked where seventeen year old Ray had got the gun from, nor why he was hanging out with a much younger kid. Ray had offered him the only source of protection he'd ever really known and Marty wasn't dumb enough to risk losing that. In a way, he'd hero worshipped the older boy, and could so easily have slipped into the same sort of heedless petty crime that had led Ray into much darker and more dangerous areas. But the difference was that Ray had never matured, he had determinedly stayed the same. The past had never seemed further away nor more alien as this Saturday morning, sitting in the mundane surroundings of a coffee shop, with his baby son on his knee. For a brief moment Marty wondered if his parents had ever taken him on such outings, or if they had felt such an all-encompassing love and urge to protect. It would have been good to have even one memory of an ordinary family outing that did not devolve into bitter recriminations and raised voices, but you couldn't have everything. Only things were going to be different for Densi. Because they were going to make sure that Densi would have a host of golden great store that would colour his future life and surround him with love.

* * *

><p>"I'm getting the idea you guys don't believe me," Ray said, looking around the boathouse suspiciously.<p>

"Why would you think that?" Sam leaned back in his chair and regarded him steadily. "Unless you've got a reason to be hiding something. Have you?"

"Sam, give the man benefit of the doubt. So he screwed with us before. Have a little faith in the healing power of the love of a good woman."

"Yeah. About that…" Ray had a bad feeling that they already know everything. "Listen, Marty's my best friend. He's the only person who ever stood by me."

"He went to a lot of trouble, setting up that fake hit outside the courtroom," Callen agreed, in a convivial manner. "Set you up with a whole new identity and even ran you to the airport. Only for you to skip out on him. That's a funny way for a friend to behave."

"Downright peculiar. You want to tell us the real reason you came back to LA, Ray?"

Kensi sat watching the interview in the Mission. "He's squirming already and they've only just begun." She had a feeling she was going to enjoy this.

"What if Mr Martindale is telling the truth?" Hetty said quietly. "He does seem to have a certain loyalty to Mr Deeks, you know." She looked over to the sofa where Marty was sprawled out, completely dead to the world. "And talking of Mr Deeks, he seems to have over-done things somewhat." She went over to her office and produced a knitted afghan and tucked it carefully around the sleeping agent and then stood for a long time, just looking down at him, with an unreadable expression on her face.

"He's going to be okay, Hetty," Kensi said.

"He very nearly died. On my watch." Hetty bent down and let her hand rest lightly on the shorn head for just a fleeting second. "And that makes it my responsibility." She pulled the blanket a little further up around his shoulders.

"We don't blame you."

"That is very generous of you. But have you stopped to consider that perhaps I blame myself? I engineered Mr Deeks' placement into NCIS, when there was no requirement for a liaison. I then badgered him to join the agency on a permanent basis. I recruited him, my dear. And then I sent him on that mission. So, ultimately it is my direct responsibility."

"Two words, Hetty: free will. Marty's a big boy."

"And if he had died: how would you feel about things then?"

Kensi shook her head. "Oh no, I'm not going there. Marty's here and he's going to be fine."

"If you two are going to argue over me, can you do it a bit more quietly?" Marty gazed at them blearily from the couch.

"Perhaps you should go home to your bed," Hetty said. "You're looking rather peaky. I could drive you?"

"I'm fine here. And Kensi's right – I'm not going to die any time soon. I promise." Marty pulled the blanket right over his head and went back to sleep again. He'd worry about Ray and whatever he did or didn't know later on, when he wasn't quite so exhausted and could think straight again. It was probably quite a compliment to have two women fighting over him, even if one of them was Hetty.

* * *

><p><em>I'd fight Kensi for Deeks any day... any day at all. And as long as I had my trusty hockey stick, I reckon I'd be in with a good chance.<em>


	32. Chapter 32

"If you don't wake up soon, we're going to phone the hospital and get you another cat scan. Or let Hetty force-feed you ginseng tea. It's entirely your choice, Deeks."

"Or we could let Eric blow that train whistle right in his ear?" Sam suggested.

"I only closed my eyes for a minute." Marty propped himself on one elbow and yawned. "My wife around anywhere?"

"We restrained her from going to have a word with Ray." Callen wasn't about to tell Deeks that Ray was steadfastly refusing to talk to anyone except his old friend. After another couple of sessions with himself and Sam, Ray would be telling them everything they wanted to know. But right now, Deeks didn't need to know that. "She's just having a word with Nell."

"Okay." Struggling up into a sitting position, Marty looked at them and almost burst out laughing. "I'm okay, you know. Maybe I overdid things a bit, but I'm not about to die on you."

"I'll believe you. Thousands wouldn't."

"Sam's a good deal of a mother hen, you know," Callen confided.

"I wasn't the one sitting holding his hand in that cellar."

"You held my hand? Really?"

Callen shrugged. "Yeah, really." He tried to sound nonchalant, but was not entirely successful.

"So that was you." Marty closed his eyes for a second, and was instantly back lying on the floor of the cellar, thinking he was going to die. "I remember someone holding my hand, and it was like I was being tethered here, when I just wanted to let go. And that was you. Wow."

"That was me. I wasn't letting you get away." Callen didn't want to think too much about that time, because it could so easily have turned out differently.

Marty held out his hand. "Thanks." It would have been so easy to just slip away into oblivion, because the other thing he recalled was the pain that nearly obliterated him and how desperately he'd wanted to escape from it. Only Callen had refused to let him go. Callen was the reason he was here. How could he ever thank him?

"You're welcome." Callen shook the hand and then pulled Marty in for a brief embrace.

"I turn my back for five minutes and find you moving in on my man, Callen. What am I going to tell Nell?" Kensi stood, with Densi on one hip, watching them. Callen had the distinct impression she had been there for some time and had heard everything.

"I couldn't help myself. I think it's the hair. Deeks is like my spiritual twin now. I tried to resist the temptation but it was too hard."

"Which is why I shave my head," Sam confided. "To keep myself safe from Callen's unwanted advances."

Callen looked at his partner. "It's alright, you're quite safe. You're not my type anyway." He reached out and pulled Deeks to his feet. "Take him home, Kensi, and put him to bed."

"You're not going to tell me about Ray, are you?" Marty figured it was worth one final shot.

"No." They virtually chorused the syllable.

"That was emphatic. And in triplicate. You've been practising, haven't you? Just don't be too hard on Ray. He's an idiot, but he's alright." _I used to think he was my best friend. I don't think I knew what real friends were till I met you guys._

"We'll take good care of him, don't worry."

"And I'll take good care of you." Kensi looped her arm through his.

"Was that a promise or a threat?" Sam asked as they walked out.

"Knowing Kensi and Deeks, it was probably both." Callen stretched. "You want to have another crack at Ray?"

"You know all the right things to say, G. No wonder Nell's putty in your hands."

"Chance would be a fine thing." In fact it was rather the reverse – Nell seemed to be able to get him to do anything she wanted. Not that Callen minded. On the contrary, he rather liked it.

* * *

><p>"I'm not tired." Marty lay on the sofa and looked at her beseechingly.<p>

"In a couple of years' time, Densi's going to be saying exactly the same thing. And guess what I'm going to say to him?"

"I don't care, because I am?"

"Pretty much. Sometimes Mommy knows best."

"You're not my Mommy."

"Thank God." Kensi was already beginning to wonder how she was going to cope when she had two male members of the Deeks family talking back. But the thought of Densi saying his first words was just too cute. As long as it was 'Mommy' – or any variant thereof.

"My thoughts exactly." Marty stretched out languorously. "There's plenty of room here, by the way."

"You just want to wheedle and find out about Ray, don't you?" Nevertheless, Kensi lay down beside him and slid her hand up underneath his shirt. _Give me a couple of mallets and I could use your ribs as a xylophone._

"I don't want to wheedle. I can think of much better things to do than wheedling." He nibbled gently on her ear. "So what did he say to them?"

"It's not going to work." Kensi could feel the familiar butterflies rising in her stomach.

"Really?"

"Really." Kensi rolled over so that she was sitting on his stomach. "Believe me on that."

"Have I told you how hot you are when you fight dirty?"

"Keep talking." If she played her cards right, there wouldn't be any more talk of Ray tonight.

* * *

><p>"I'm only working a short day, so I'll be home by four. At the latest."<p>

"We'll be fine." Marty opened the door. "Now get going before you're late."

"Hetty will understand." Kensi found herself being propelled down the driveway. He'd only been out of the hospital for a few days, after all. Maybe it was too soon?

"Go to work. Earn some money to keep me in the manner I want to become accustomed to." Marty stood waving goodbye until he noticed the curtains across the road were twitching wildly, and the lady walking her dog had a broad grin on her face. It took a few moments before he realised that he was outside wearing nothing more than a pair of pyjama pants and a broad smile and giving the female populace a good deal to talk about. He went back inside with as much dignity as possible, given the circumstances.

"Okay kiddo, it's just you and Daddy today. And I've got a great day planned. You're going to love this." At least he hoped Densi would.

The local pool was only a couple of blocks away, well within easy walking range. The doctors were reluctant for him to drive for another few weeks, and Marty was giving serious consideration to getting himself a bike, but in the meantime he'd just have to walk. Maybe after a few days he could start jogging with the stroller? Anyway, teaching Densi to swim was something he'd been longing to do, and this was the perfect opportunity. Plus, it would count as some rehab for himself. And they said only women could multi-task?

If, during his single days, Marty had realised what opportunities were afforded to a man with a baby in the kiddy pool, he would have begged, stolen or borrowed any child he could his hands on. The place was teeming with gorgeous women, none of whom seemed to mind that he looked half-starved or even that he had the haircut from hell. Truth be told, all the attention was actually a bit much, especially as he actually wanted to spend time with his son. Densi was splendidly oblivious to the fact that his father was clearly viewed as the most exciting topic of conversation since Kim Kardashian's blink and you'd miss it marriage, and seemed perfectly at home in the water.

"Just wait till Mommy hears about this." Okay, maybe Marty would just give the edited highlights, like how Densi already kicked out like a pro and didn't mind his face going under the water (even if that had been a mistake). There was no need to go into all the finer details after all. Not if he wanted to stay alive and married.

After about twenty minutes, Densi started to look chilly, so Marty got out of the gloriously warm water and wrapped him in a towel. They'd done pretty well for a first time, he thought and started towards the changing rooms.

"Per? It is Per, isn't it?"

With a start, Marty recognised her as one of the women from the yoga retreat. What was her name? Shelly? Sandra? Suzie – that was it. "Hi Suzie. Nice to meet you."

"Oh my God. What did they do to you?" She was clutching onto his arm, her long manicured nails digging in like talons.

The warning bells were being to ring in his head. "Take a look, Suzie." He gestured to the scar. "They did a really good job on me. Nearly left my son without a Dad." There were a couple of tow-headed kids standing beside her and Suzie grabbed hold of their hands protectively.

"This wasn't meant to happen," she said in an undertone. "They promised. You were only supposed to get a warning."

Great. He was getting a confession beside the baby pool of the local sports centre, wearing nothing but swimming trunks. He had no gun, no badge, and not even a cell phone. And just to really complicate things, Marty had Densi in his arms. This was so far from ideal it was untrue. Right now he'd have difficulty in holding onto a stray Yorkie, let alone a fit, athletic woman who could probably push him over with one finger. He'd just have to use the one weapon he still had: his persuasive tongue.

"We need to talk, Suzie."

"No. It's too risky." She genuinely looked terrified.

"You love your kids, right?"

Suzie pushed them behind her. "You leave my children alone."

If the circumstances had been different, Marty would have laughed. Right now he was a less of a threat than a liability. "I'm not going to touch them. I would never do anything like that. But you want to be around to look after your kids, to protect them, right? And you can't do that if you're in prison."

"That's not going to happen." She was sheet-white, but determined. "You're bluffing."

"Really? I'm not so sure about that. You see, there's one thing I didn't tell you. I'm a federal agent. And if I can link you in any way to this, then you're going down for a long time. Believe me on that."

"You're bluffing," Suzie repeated, but she looked a whole lot less certain. Marty had to hand it to her, Suzie had guts.

"Why would I do that? One phone call is all it takes." God, he hoped she couldn't see how hard his legs were shaking right now. "Or you can come with me voluntarily. Tell me what you know."

Suzie pursed her mouth tightly. "Alright," she said sullenly. "But I want a deal. Immunity from prosecution."

That was when he knew he had her. Because there was no way an innocent woman would ever say anything like that, not without legal representation. Clearly Suzie had been around the block a few times. Now, the only problem was how he was going to get her out of here and to the Mission. Well, apart from what Kensi was going to say. Not to mention Sam and Callen, especially if he didn't manage to put some clothes on.

* * *

><p><em>Has anyone else noticed that I seem to write about Deeks in a state of underdress rather a lot? I wonder why that is? I also wonder why Shane Brennan doesn't let us see more of ECO's gorgeous body in the show...<em>


	33. Chapter 33

"I'm not even going to ask," Kensi said wearily. Three hours in a room with Ray had that effect on most people. He could be charming, he could be evasive, but the one thing Ray couldn't do was to give you a straight answer. All Ray would say was that he had heard his that his old friend might be in trouble and he'd come back to warn him. Like he couldn't have picked up a telephone? It just didn't seem in character for Ray to quite so altruistic. There had to be something in it for him, something that made it worth his while. She'd come back up to the Mission to decompress, only to find out that in the interim, Marty had got the first solid lead into the case. A lead that turned out to be five foot four, with a pneumatic body and breasts that rivalled Pamela Anderson's. And they had both been wearing next to nothing at the time. Go figure. It could only happen to Marty.

"You want to. You know you want to." Sam was at his most cajolling.

"Go on then." He was right, of course. Kensi leant back and listened as Callen explained how Deeks had managed to persuade one of the pool staff that he was a federal agent and handed across his locker key so she could check his ID, while he kept Suzie under close guard.

"She was female, wasn't she?" Kensi knew exactly how persuasive her husband could be. She could just picture Marty standing there, smiling and exercising all his charm at the pool assistant.

Callen nodded. "Anyway, she checked his ID, found he was kosher and the rest is history." Although he and Sam had been slightly surprised to get the call, and even more surprised to find Deeks wearing nothing but a pair of swimming trunks and a bright smile, but looking scrawnier than ever. Which explained why Kensi had come back to find Marty sitting in Hetty's office, wearing a bright pink towelling bathrobe. Well, it explained everything except the robe.

"Why pink?" She simply had to ask.

"It was the first thing that came to hand," Sam explained. "At least it reflected a little colour into his cheeks. And belive me, he could do with it. By the time we got there, he was blue with cold."

"How much time have we wasted grilling Ray?" Sam looked at his time-sheets in disbelief. It felt as if he'd seen nothing except the inside of the boathouse for days. "And then Deeks goes swimming and the case practically solves itself right in front of him." It really didn't seem fair at all.

"It was the shock of seeing Deeks half naked," Callen theorised. "That, and the skin-head. It shook up Suzie so much she just let it all spill out." He thought of Suzie's very tight and very revealing costume and smiled at the memory.

"He doesn't look that bad," Kensi said protectively and then shrugged as they looked incredulously at her. "Okay, he looks awful. But don't let on, okay?"

"Give us credit for a little sensitivity, will you?"

"I know exactly how sensitive you are. Which is why I'm asking you not to say anything." Kensi twirled her pencil between her fingers and thought. "Ray doesn't know we've got Suzie, does he? And Suzie doesn't know we've got Ray…" An idea was beginning to form in her mind.

"There is no way there's a connection between them," Callen said. "Ray was a low-life gunsmith when he was in LA, and now he's a low-life convenience store clerk. Suzie's married to a financier and spends her days getting manicures and buying dresses for all those dinner parties she and her hubby host for their influential friends."

"There has to be a connection," Kensi insisted. "Somewhere down the line. Maybe not a direct connection – a friend in common? It's worth a shot, isn't it?"

"Hold that thought. We're going to have a little chat with Suzie." She'd probably cooled off by now, but when they'd arrived at the pool to pick her up, Suzie Jansen had been red-hot with anger.

"No way. She's mine." Kensi stood up. "Don't even try to stop me. This one is personal."

"That's exactly why you will refrain from going anywhere near her, my dear." Hetty regarded her implacably. "You are too involved."

"And they're not?" Kensi gestured to the two male agents.

"We're not as involved as you, Kensi," Callen reminded her.

"But we do have a very personal stake in this. We'll get her to talk. I promise you." Sam looked at her. "I promise you, Kensi. We will find out who did this to Deeks and they will pay. But we're going to do this by the book. There aren't going to be any loopholes some smarmy lawyer can exploit so they walk free. This case is going to be water-tight. I promise you that too. Because we owe that to Deeks. We're not going to leave anything to chance."

"And we appreciate it." Marty came in and stood behind Kensi, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Sorry about all this. Today did so not go to plan."

"Tell me about it. Later." Kensi was relieved to see that he'd changed into his own clothes and discarded the pink bathrobe. They already gave the neighbours enough to talk about without adding fuel to the fire. "Where's Densi?"

"With his Auntie Nell. Who was saying something about looking after him this weekend?" marty raised one eyebrow. "Want to tell me what you've got planned?"

"Not particularly," Kensi said and then scowled as Callen said "Drunken debauchery," at almost the exact same time.

"How about you two get your stories straight?" Marty was definitely intrigued.

"How about we get down to the boathouse and see if we can finally close this case once and for all?" Callen wanted out of here before too many awkward questions were asked. "And you two can get on home."

"Follow the money," Marty called over his shoulder, as Kensi virtually dragged him out of the building. It couldn't be a co-incidence that Mark Jansen was in finance.

Callen looked incredulous. "He thinks we don't know that? They must have hit Deeks harder than we thought."

"He's only trying to be helpful. It must be rather difficult for Mr Deeks to have to sit on the side-lines and watch all this play out, and yet not be able to participate." Hetty looked at Callen. "You must remember that feeling very well."

Of course he did. There had been periods when Callen had thought he would never return to work after the shooting, and there had also been periods when he had thought that he would never want to return to work. Most of all, there had been periods of deep frustration, so he knew exactly how Deeks was feeling – all the conflicting emotions and the knowledge that you were in no fit state to help your team.

"And you can't be too careful with a brain injury." Hetty had seen the scan results, more than that she had also seen the photographs of the blood clot they had removed. The doctors said he had been lucky: very lucky indeed, not only to survive, but to survive without any serious neurological impact. It would appear that Mr Deeks had used up at least two of his nine lives and Hetty was determined to make sure he did not squander away any more of them. If that meant dispatching Ms Blye with orders to physically sit on him and make sure that he rested properly, then that was what she would do. Or Hetty could attend to it personally. She rather thought everyone involved would prefer the first option.

"Mr Beale has been making some investigations into Mark Jansen's affair – both business and social. I've taken the liberty of getting Ms Jones to carry out a preliminary forensic analysis of his accounts. Why don't you go and talk to his wife? And I think I'll have little chat with Mr Martingale."

It was almost unheard of for Hetty to personally interrogate a suspect, although her reputation was legendary. The fact she was now going to do so showed just how personal this case had got for everyone concerned.

* * *

><p>Patience had never been one of Ray Martindale's virtues. And right now, his patience had been stretched to breaking point. Why would no one believe him that he'd come back to do right by his old friend? He didn't even bother to turn around when the door opened, knowing it would be the gruesome twosome once again. Laurel and Hardy. Little and large. Or whatever they called themselves. Ray didn't care any more. He just wanted out of here. And where the hell had Marty got to?<p>

"I trust we've not kept you waiting too long?"

Ray whirled around at the calm voice and then stared at the small, impeccably neat figure that stood at the head of the table, hands clasped and head tilted to one side.

"Where did you come from? And where are the other guys?"

"I came from my office. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Henrietta Lange, the head of the Office of Special Projects. And I've just made you my own, very special project."

She was perfectly polite, and her voice was beautifully modulated, but there was something about this woman that made Ray's blood run cold. And the smile on her face was like some death rictus.

"What about the other guys? And Marty?" Where the hell was Marty?

"There's only me, I'm afraid." She didn't sound at all apologetic, Ray realised; she sounded as if she was enjoying this. "I do hope that won't be a problem?" Hetty sat down and made herself comfortable. She was in this for the long-haul, she was in this for just as long as it took, because Ray Martindale was not leaving until she had some answers.

"So, let's get started, shall we? At the beginning, if you please."

This was like being hauled up in front of the High School Principal, the jerk who had told ray he was a bad influence and was corrupting the younger kids. He hadn't known the half of it. And if this self-possessed woman thought she had the measure of him, she could think again. "I've told them everything. I've got nothing left to say."

"But you haven't told me, Mr Martindale. And I'm very interested to hear what you have to say. Let's start with the fact that you used to be Mr Deeks' informant, shall we?"

"That's a matter of record. Public record." The facts and nothing but the facts. Ray had sat through enough interviews not to be intimidated.

"It can't have been easy, seeing your childhood friend make such a success of his life, while you were such a failure. It must have been very difficult for you. Was that why you refused to get on the plane after the trial – to set up Mr Deeks? The man who had sat by your side in the court room, walked outside, right at your side. The man you hugged. Did you feel like Judas, Mr Martindale, when you gave the signal that identified my agent as a target?"

There was steel in her voice now, and undisguised venom. "Four years ago, you stayed in LA for once reason and one reason only – to get your revenge on Mr Deeks. Even your final getaway was engineered as an attempt to kill him. Your pregnant girlfriend was only an excuse. You conned her, just as you've always conned everyone. Except me. I can see straight through you."

Hetty had spent a long time reviewing the case notes from nearly four years ago, and watching all the footage as her mind ran over all the possibilities. There had only been one possible answer – and that was the oldest possible reason –the reason why Cain had killed Abel: jealousy. Ray had played a long game, he'd been prepared to wait, and this time he had almost succeeded. The third time had almost been deadly. But she had worked out the puzzle, had finally realised that Deeks had been the target all along, with Ray using himself as subterfuge.

"Congratulations. Finally someone's worked it out. It took you long enough." It was almost a relief, Ray thought, now that someone finally knew, and could see not only how clever he'd been, but also appreciate the fact he'd been prepared to wait for so long for his revenge. Marty thought he could use him as some sort of stool pigeon and screw Nicole into the bargain? "You're good. I've got to give you that."

"So I've been told," Hetty said dryly. "By better men than you." She looked down at her notes. "So, in your own words, please. And from the beginning."

* * *

><p>"This weekend?"<p>

"What about it?"

Marty looked at her pleadingly. "That's exactly what I want to know. Come on – just one hint."

"Saturday and Sunday: you and me. And that's all I'm telling you." Kensi smiled to herself. "Think of it as a belated anniversary present." She still felt kind of guilty about the fact she'd not bought him anything.

"I've already got the only present I ever wanted – I got to come home to you and Densi."

It was a good thing that they were stopped at traffic lights, because Kensi's vision suddenly went all blurry.


	34. Chapter 34

"Densi and I got you back. And that was everything we needed." This weekend was going to be as much a present to herself as it was a present to Marty, Kensi thought. Much as they both adored their son, they still needed some time alone together, time they could devote to each other with absolutely no distractions. Well, no distractions except maybe leather, and lace. And whatever else she could come up with.

"There's just one thing."

"You have not got plans for the weekend! No way."

"Of course I haven't." Marty sounded indignant. Sure, he might have got hit on the head - hit really hard – but he hadn't lost all his senses. He was being promised two whole days of uninterrupted bliss with Kensi and she actually thought he'd want to pass on that? "But I was just thinking – there's something we haven't done yet. Something we really need to do."

Kensi listened, and as he spoke, a smile came over her face. "I'm seriously impressed. That's absolutely brilliant."

"I have my moments," he said modestly.

"You certainly do." She still felt guilty about all those beautiful daisies she'd never even taken into the house. Still, what Marty didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "I'll talk to Hetty, if you take care of all the other arrangements."

"You trust me to do that?" It wasn't that Kensi was a control freak – not exactly. She just liked things to be done in a certain way – her way. He liked to line up all the canned goods in alphabetical order; she liked them in size groupings, for example. So they'd compromised and arranged them by colour family, which didn't make any sense at all, but then who really cared?

"I trust you. Tomorrow I'll square things with Hetty for Friday afternoon and leave all the rest to you. Unless you need some help?" Kensi smiled inwardly: she'd been worried about Marty finding himself at a loose end and then going off and doing something stupid, and pushing himself too hard in the process. But this was the perfect way to keep him occupied and out of trouble at the same time.

"I'll manage."

"Great. Now, how about you tell me why you were at the pool, when we agreed you'd stay home today?"

"I was going to. I'd planned to make this whole batch of food for when we start to wean Densi and then freeze it down."

"Sounds good. So what happened?"

"I started with carrots and peas. You know – I cooked them, no salt or anything, and then I pureed them."

Kensi was trying to work out what could possibly have gone wrong with something so simple. "You forgot to put the lid on the blender?" she guessed, and tried not to imagine her kitchen with walls liberally besplattered in either green or orange.

"Give me a little credit. No, I reckon my mistake was thinking I'd puree them together." Marty gulped at the memory. "You should have seen it, Kensi. It looked like the contents of one of his diapers. The ones where we have to open all the windows after we've changed him. The nuclear ones. No way could I have fed that mess to him. No way."

Kensi took a quick look and saw he'd actually gone quite green. "You introduce one food at a time," she said kindly.

"I know, but it sounded kind of boring."

"Marty – he's a baby. And he's been living on milk so far. Does he look bored when we produce a bottle of formula?" They both knew the answer to that one: Densi's eyes lit up like candles and he made a violent grab for the bottle.

"You live and you learn," he said philosophically.

"Please – just promise me you won't do any wild experiments for Friday? Just keep it nice and simple."

"Not too plain." Marty caught the look on her face and subsided. "Simple it is." What Kensi didn't know wouldn't hurt her, after all. And it was the best possible way he could think of for thanking the team for all they had done. He was going to make sure that Friday was a day that none of them would ever forget. And the story of his culinary disaster had diverted her neatly away from the topic of what they were doing at the pool. For some strange reason, Kensi had this total aversion to the whole idea of Densi learning to swim, on the grounds that it would only encourage Marty to teach him to surf. Which was pretty much the whole point.

* * *

><p>Hetty kept the files on Suzie Jansen and Ray Martindale carefully out of sight as Kensi explained about their idea for the end of the week. It was a relief to see the young woman was back to her normal self after all the trials and tribulations of the past few months. Kensi had slipped seamlessly back into work, as thought she had never been away. And it was indescribably good to have her back again. Things hadn't been the same without her; there had been a hole in the tightly-knit fabric that held the team together.<p>

"You have been missed," she said.

Kensi thought back and remembered Hetty saying the same thing years ago, back when her heart was still in hiding. "I missed you too. Now, all we've got to do is get that husband of mine back up to strength and we're good to go."

"Indeed. You need to fatten him up a little."

"You make it sound like Marty's a thanksgiving turkey." Kensi leant forward. "I'm doing my best, believe me. And he's hatched this plan." She smiled at the wary look on Hetty's face. "It's actually a really good plan. But we're going to need your help."

"Details, Ms Blye. I never buy a pig in a poke, as you very well know." She steepled her fingers together and the grim expression relaxed as Kensi began to explain. "I think we can manage to accommodate that request. With a little deft rearrangement of the schedules. I take it your colleagues are in blissful ignorance?"

"Completely and utterly. And we'd kind of like to keep it that way."

"My lips are sealed." You couldn't ask for a better guarantee than that.

* * *

><p>"Suzie." Sam said the name slowly, and liked the sound so much he said it again, just for dramatic effect. "Suzie. You've been a busy girl, haven't you?"<p>

"A very busy, very bad girl," Callen added. He whacked a file down onto the table and watched as Suzie flinched. "I'm guessing your husband doesn't know about your former life?"

"What – a big-shot guy like him? Don't make me laugh, G. He's just another sucker who got taken in be a pretty face and a silver tongue. Why would a guy who sits on the board of directors be doing with an ex-hooker?" They'd looked in Jansen's background carefully, gone over it with a toothcomb, and the guy was exactly what he seemed – a banker. With a very clever accountant, who maximised his investments strictly within the letter of the law. Jansen was so squeaky clean it was ridiculous. Mind you, from all accounts he was deathly boring too.

Suzie's normally perfect make-up was long gone, and she looked at least ten years older as a result. "That was a long time ago. A very long time ago. I was a different person." She looked at them pleadingly. "Come on, so I made a few mistakes?"

"More than a few." Sam flipped through the files, and whistled. "And you made a few friends too. Like Ray Martindale. Now, that's interesting. Very interesting indeed."

"Not half as interesting as the other names and faces we've uncovered." Callen pulled out a photograph. "Like this guy. Or how about this one? Albanian traffickers. People traffickers. They bring in young girls to this country and they force them into prostitution. Out of interest , exactly how old is your daughter, Suzie?"

"You leave my Tammy out of this!" Suzie leapt out of her chair, fingers ready to claw at his face, but Callen was too fast and grabbed her wrist effortlessly.

"They're all somebody's daughter, somebody's sister. None of them deserved this. You exploited these girls, Suzie." The look of disgust on his face frightened her. "All that networking with your husband's business associates was great training for you, wasn't it? You learned to schmooze and cajole with the best of them. So what was the motive? Money? Was hubby not giving you enough pin money to keep you in Manolos?"

"He treated me like some pretty, mindless doll," Suzie spat. "And there's only so much tennis a girl can play." She'd got to chatting with the Albanians one day, relaxing at the juice bar at the clinic, and afterwards at a cocktail bar. And things had just… happened. A few months later, and Suzie was virtually running their organisation and it felt so good to be appreciated again. It was easy to recruit new clients through the clinic, with its comfortable surroundings that just invited stressed-out businessmen to confide in a sympathetic female ear. The only trouble was that some of them couldn't keep their mouths shut, and blabbed about the good time she'd set them up with on their next time they visited the club. There was something about having a massage that seemed to invite confidences as inhibitions were swept away as aching muscles were pummelled back into shape. Which meant that Suzie had to do a little damage limitation with the masseurs. Most of them had been happy to listen to reason, take a backhander and simply disappear, but one or two were more recalcitrant and had to be dealt with accordingly. Ray had been a useful source of names and information for those jobs.

"How handy that you'd still kept up with your old friends from the bad old days." This whole case gave Sam a bad taste in his mouth.

"A girl does what she has to do." Suzie shrugged. She wasn't stupid; she knew she was going down for a long time. "You should never forget where you come from." And she never had. She'd kept with anyone and everyone who could help her, including Ray Martindale, who hadn't exactly bothered to try to keep his new identity a secret. It was an open secret that Ray was gunning for an ex-cop called Marty Deeks, and Suzie had been only too happy to oblige with the details – for a price. Everything had a price, after all.

"Tell that to those girls, why don't you? Nobody asked them, nobody gave them a choice." The faces in the photographs would haunt Callen for a long time, the portrayals of abused innocence.

"You recognised Deeks right off, didn't you?" Sam asked.

"Of course I did. He busted me for soliciting, when he was still on the beat. You think I'm going to forget a face like that? Or that body?" Suzie smiled salaciously. "Although I saw a whole lot more of it when he was in those shorts than back in the days when he was in uniform. He should really wear shorts more often. Cute buns. Great package."

"Shut up!" Callen braced both hands on the table and practically screamed in her face. "You do not talk about a federal agent like he's some damn piece of meat."

"That's all he ever was to me, sugar."

"He's my friend." His face was a scant two inches away from hers. "And I will personally testify against you and how you have ruined hundreds of lives. And how you betrayed my friend and allowed him to be half-beaten to death and left alone in some god-forsaken cellar." Callen was aware he was shouting and he didn't care.

Sam's hands were on his shoulders, pulling him back, bringing him back to sanity. "Leave it. We've got everything we need. And she's not worth it."

"You're right. She's not." He took a deep breath of air, filling his lungs and then exhaling slowly. "But Deeks is. That's where you made your big mistake, Suzie. You and Ray. You have no idea what real friendship is about."

"Or the lengths that friends will go to." Sam picked up the file and walked out of the door, leaving Suzie sitting in an empty room, wishing she had just one friend like that, a friend who would go to the ends of the earth for her, with no questions asked and no expectation of any repayment.

Outside, the two agents looked at one another.

"We got her," Sam said, with weary relief. It was nearly over.

"Just Ray to go." And then they could finally close the files, knowing they'd done their job, both as professionals, and as friends. "You ever wondered what might have happened if Deeks had been more like Ray?" They were like two sides of the same coin, a coin that was flipped up in the air and, depending upon which side landed, a decision taken on the path to follow.

"Wouldn't have happened. Deeks does the right thing. He always has." It didn't matter where you came from: when temptation arose, what mattered was who you were and how you lived your life.

Callen nodded. "Let's go deal with Ray. And then we're going for a beer." He needed something to take the sour taste out of his mouth.

"You buying?"

"I'm buying."

"Then I'm drinking."

* * *

><p><em>Evil plot bunny's ears perked up when he heard about Kensi and Deeks plans for Friday.<br>Just to confuse you, Friday will actually take place tomorrow, Thursday. Although it will be Friday in some parts of the world, I guess! Sometimes life is just too complicated, and that's without devious plot bunny puttig his paw into things and stirring them around._


	35. Chapter 35

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

Kensi turned around. "What makes you say that, Callen?"

"Because you're too quiet. And you've got that look on your face. The one you have when you're planning something."

"Of course I'm planning something. I've been planning it for ages and you and Sam have been helping me." Kensi looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, which only made Callen more suspicious.

"I'm not talking about that." Callen gave her a hard stare.

"Fair enough." Kensi pretended to be very interested in an email rabbiting on about budget planning and projected spending levels and efficiency measures. She could hardly stop thinking about the weekend though – when she wasn't thinking about this afternoon, that was. Kensi snuck a look at her watch and prayed that Marty had things under control. And that Densi would behave. Okay, she officially needed a miracle. Either that or some divine intervention. Which might be easier to achieve than she'd originally thought. She fired off a quick email and then turned back to pondering the finance budget. "You got any ideas on how we can spent less money and deal with more crimes?" she asked, managing to sound quite interested.

"Stop Deeks getting injured quite so often?" Sam ambled in, having finally finished the long and needlessly complex process of signing over Ray and Suzie to the civil authorities. "That should save us a fortune on insurance premiums."

"Kensi's hiding something," Callen said.

"Interesting. What are you hiding, Kensi – and why? We're your team. You're not supposed to have secrets from us."

"I'm not hiding anything, and even if I was – which I'm not – I've got the same right to have a private life as you guys."

Sam strolled over to Callen's desk, held his hand up behind his back and waited for his partner to slap it. "She's definitely hiding something."

Kensi could have smacked both of them quite cheerfully. "Sometimes this is just like being back in high school. And believe me, it wasn't that great first time around."

"Gentlemen – or should that be boys? For you seem a little juvenile today."

"They're picking on me, Hetty," Kensi said plaintively. "It's two against one and they're both bigger than me." Yes, salvation had arrived, bang on cue. Thank the Lord for email and a sympathetic boss. A sympathetic female boss. Sometimes the testosterone levels got just a little too high for comfort.

Hetty pursed her lips. "How very ungallant. Well, I think in the spirit of maintaining positive team dynamics, you should remove yourself from the source of distress."

"Thank you, Hetty," Kensi said meekly, trying not to look too triumphant, and shutting down her laptop with unseemly haste.

"You're giving her the rest of the day off?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Sneak." Callen shot Kensi's baci a reproachful look. "How come she gets the afternoon off?"

"Who is 'she', Mr Callen? The cat's mother? I have given Ms Blye the rest of the day off because that is what I decided was the right thing to do, given the circumstances." Hetty paused until she was quite sure that Kensi had actually left the Mission. "And besides which, I have plans for you both this afternoon." She gestured meaningfully towards the changing area and Sam's heart sank.

"Please don't tell me we're going undercover as bear builders again?" he pleaded. That had to have been the worst cover ever, even worse than the time he'd posed as a UPS delivery man.

"Sam blew up a marmalade cat," Callen explained. "He couldn't control the stuffing machine and it exploded. There was stuffing and bits of cat everywhere, and traumatised children running out into the mall screaming." That hadn't been as bad as the point where he had been forcibly engaged in a conversation with a middle-aged woman who had demanded to know if her 'Hello Kitty' doll should wear pink satin panties, or ones with little love hearts on them. There were some things that even years of undercover work could not prepare you for.

"Oh no, you may have no fears on that front." Hetty glared at them. "The company refused to have you back. They said you were both incapable of relating to children."

"I'm great with Densi."

"He prefers me."

They stood toe to toe and eyeballed one another until Callen found he was getting a crick in his neck.

"And you wondered why Ms Blye thought you were being childish?" Hetty sighed. "Go and get changed. Smart suits. And ties are not optional. I'll explain everything shortly." She went briskly upstairs to Ops, satisfied that neither man suspected a thing. Now, all she had to do was to get Nell and Eric suitably attired and then they were good to go. Sometimes this job was rather similar to working as a kindergarten teacher. However, the team had been under an inordinate amount of stress lately, and they had to let off steam somehow.

"She's up to something," Sam said in an undertone as he pulled aside the curtain and went into the changing cubicle.

"Definitely." Callen decided the silver grey suit was his best bet, and selected a crimson tie to go with it. "What do you reckon?"

"Could be a meeting with Vance. Or maybe SecNav?" Sam had learned a long time ago to expect the worst and then pleasantly surprised when the reality wasn't nearly as bad. Still, there was no point in taking any chances, so he chose a sombre dark navy business suit, with a dark shirt and tie.

"You know how to cheer a man up." Callen pulled aside the curtain and exited, at almost exactly the same time as his partner. "Who died?"

"Looking for a job selling encyclopedias door to door?"

Satisfied the honours were even, they sat down at their desks and awaited their fate.

* * *

><p>"This is Kensi and Deeks' house."<p>

"How very observant of you, Mr Callen. We'll make an agent out of you yet." Hetty parked in the drive. "Everybody present and correct?"

This was getting more like a surreal Sunday school trip by the second, Nell thought, with everybody dressed up in their best bibs and tuckers, sitting in the SUV like good boys and girls, with neat hair and clean fingernails. At least Hetty hadn't sung Kumbaya while she was driving. "Adsum!" she called out cheerily, deciding that if you couldn't beat them, then you might as well join them.

"Speaking a dead language is so uncool," Eric informed her.

"On the contrary, Mr Beale: ipsa scientia potestas est." Hetty rubbed her hands together. "Come on then, we haven't got all day."

"I don't see why we had to get dressed up just to go see Kensi and Deeks." It looked as if Eric was sulking, but then it might have had something to do with the fact that Hetty had virtually pressganged him into a suit, going so far as to threaten to personally dress him if he didn't stop behaving like such a big baby.

"Because I said so." Satisfied that she had subdued all possible discontent, Hetty opened the front door wide. "Go right on ahead. I think you'll find they're waiting for us in the garden."

"She is definitely up to something," Sam whispered.

Callen felt the cold hand of fear clutch his heart. Hetty had made them all dress up, and Nell was wearing this long, pale coloured dress that floated around her ankles and…surely not. No way. You needed blood tests and all sorts of paper work had to be filled out – didn't it? You couldn't just arrange a wedding for someone else – could you? He had this sinking feeling that if anyone could do that, then Hetty was that person. It just got worse when they went into the living room, which had flowers everywhere – white flowers. And there were white garlands draped across the ceiling. He walked out into the garden, like a man in a dream. Or a nightmare. It wasn't that he didn't love Nell, because he did. He even wanted to marry her someday. Callen just didn't want to marry her today, that was all. This was something they should plan together, even if it meant sneaking off, like Kensi and Deeks had done in Prague.

"At last! We thought you'd never get here."

They were waiting for him, Callen realised: Kensi, Deeks and the baby. Things had to be bad, because Kensi was wearing a frock and Deeks was in a suit and tie too. That was practically unheard of, although it didn't look quite as incongruous as it usually did; because Deeks' hair was still really short and he'd actually shaved. By Callen's reckoning, that had to be twice in under a week, which was surely some sort of record. And they were standing under some sort of arch: was that what HGTV called a gazebo? Anyway, it was decorated with flowers too. And the worst thing was that the garden walls were too high for him to jump over – unless Sam gave him a leg up. Only that wasn't likely, was it? Sam was bound to be in on this. He had to be. And Callen was going to kill him.

Sam flashed him a smile. "Don't look so worried, G – it might never happen."

Only it had. It had happened and he was trapped. And to make matters worse, Nell's hand had slipped into his and she was smiling up at him and Callen knew that he couldn't refuse her anything.

"I love christenings, don't you?" she whispered.

And suddenly it all made sense. That wasn't a wedding cake over there on the table after all. Of course it wasn't. There was a God, and He was good. He was very good indeed. "Who doesn't love a christening?" Callen replied joyfully, and then put his arm around her waist and kissed her.

* * *

><p><em>Oh come on, you didn't think even I would do that to poor Callen, did you?<br>But a word of warning, although slushy and randy will definitely be seeing some action over the weekend, I'm pretty sure I can see evil plot bunny eyeing up that christening cake. And that means trouble..._


	36. Chapter 36

"Aren't we missing something?" Sam looked around the garden curiously. "Like a minister?" They were usually a prerequisite for a christening after all.

"No, we've got everyone we need right here." Kensi reached out both her hands to him. "This isn't a normal christening, you see." Sam took hold of them tightly and kissed her on the cheek.

"Since when did you two ever do anything normal?" Callen had Nell pressed close to his side, his arm protectively around her.

Kensi ignored him. "It's more of a naming ceremony, and our way of welcoming Densi into the world."

"And to say thank you to everyone who's been there for the three of us." Deeks had Densi balanced on his hip and he seemed uncharacteristically nervous. "Because we've never really thanked you properly for all you've done and for all your support. It's been one hell of a journey, but we made it, because you were there. Every single step of the way."

"And that made all the difference," Kensi added. She didn't even want to think about how very different things might have been, but the one consolation was that her friends would have surrounded her with love, just as they always had – and helped in every way conceivable. They had gone that extra mile, and they had done so willingly and with such compassion. The past few months had shown her just how blessed she was with her family and her friends.

"It was our pleasure," Hetty assured him. She'd worked with many teams, and with agents from all around the world in the course of her career, but this team was special. This was her team, the ne plus ultra and they were definitely the crème de la crème, as dear Miss Jean Brodie had so rightly said. More than that, they were the closest thing she had to a family, and to see that family stretch down into a new generation was especially satisfying. The ties that bound them had been made that little bit tighter, than extra bit stronger and more special.

She held out her arms and received Densi, who stared at her glasses with great interest, and then made a determined grab for them, which she fended off with uncanny ease.

"David Martin Deeks: welcome to the world. You have brought so much joy to everyone, but especially to your parents. May you always be secure in their love and understanding."

Hetty had always been able to capture her audience's attention, but never more than at this moment. Kensi and Deeks were standing to one side, watching as Hetty looked at their son with intense love and spoke directly from her heart.

"And may you always know that you have the support of your wider family." She gestured towards Sam. "Mr Hanna: will you promise to guide him faithfully?"

Sam looked slightly taken aback and flashed a grateful look at Kensi and Deeks. "I will. With love and with courage."

"And Mr Callen and Ms Jones: will you both promise to watch over him?"

"We will." It seemed like a foreshadowing of what was to come, Nell thought: of wedding vows and married life and babies with round, plump little legs and smiles of pure joy. The future had never seemed brighter.

"With love and understanding."

"And Mr Beale: will you promise to listen to him?"

"I will." Eric looked completely shocked, not having expected to be included. "I'll even take him surfing."

"Oh no you won't! Kensi interjected. "Not until he's at least eighteen," she amended hastily, just in case Eric thought that she didn't trust him..

"By which time I'll have taught him properly." Deeks flashed a grin. He definitely didn't trust Eric enough to leave something as important as that to anyone other than himself. And eighteen months was more like it, he thought.

"And I promise to be here for you, dear Densi," Hetty said quietly and kissed the top of his head. "Come what may."

She had had so many dreams, and such precious, wonderful dreams, but they had died unfulfilled. To finally be a part of a new young life was so special and it helped to assuage the hurt she had concealed for so long.

"The Lord bless you and keep you;  
>The Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you;<br>The Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace."

Hetty bowed her head briefly, and everyone else followed suit. For a moment, silence hung over the sunlit garden as they contemplated the words. "May you have every blessing and have a long, happy and healthy life."

"Welcome to our world, Densi." Marty retrieved his son and stared at him intently. "It's because of these people that I'm here right now. I know I can trust them to look out for you and to look after you. And my wish for you is that one day you can find friends like them. But it's going to be hard." His voice wavered slightly, and for a second he looked frightening vulnerable.

Kensi was there, putting her arm around his waist. "And one day, may you find that one person who completes you." She turned her gaze from her son to look up at her husband. "And may you know just how wonderful this world is when you have someone to share it with."

"I think I'm going to cry," Nell confided and felt Callen squeeze her hand as he struggled to compose himself.

"I've never been a godfather before," Eric said, still trying to figure it all out.

"And you still aren't," Sam informed him. "Hetty's not an ordained minister."

She looked at him quizzically. "Really, Mr Hannah? Are you absolutely certain about that?"

"Don't go there," Kensi warned him. It sometimes seemed as if there was nothing Hetty had not done during the course of her very varied career, which was precisely why they had asked her to lead the ceremony. "Go and have something to eat instead."

"Or drink." Marty gestured towards the glasses. "If you go into the kitchen, you'll find champagne chilling, courtesy of Hetty."

"It was the least I could do." Hetty gave a sigh of contentment as she looked around the garden. "This was such a lovely idea." She didn't know about feeling nearer to God in a garden, but here today, with the kiss of the sun for pardon, and the fellowship of her friends, her soul had found its ease and contentment, as well as its joy and hope. And maybe that was being closer to God? She wasn't to argue about it, she would just accept it with gratitude.

Sam came out with the champagne and expertly twisted the bottle, so that cork came away smoothly in his hand, with only a subdued explosion of air.

"He's showing off," Callen said loudly. "Wants everyone to remember he was once a sommelier."

"And I've got the corkscrew pin to prove it," Sam reminded him. "Which I might just leave to Densi in my will. What are you going to leave him – that rabbit you got free with your top hat?" He poured out in the wine into the waiting flutes, judging each glass perfectly, so that when the froth of bubbles subsided every single glass contained the same amount. "Now, that is a skill," he said with considerable satisfaction.

"And it's the first time you've been able to use it since their wedding, "Callen reminded him. "You going to show us again in another three years time?"

"It's going to take you that long to make an honest woman of Nell?"

Hetty decided it was time to intervene. She raised her glass and declaimed; "To the Deeks family."

He couldn't help it, he really couldn't. "May God bless them and all who sail in them." The champagne was going straight to his head.

Eric gave Callen a hard look. "Live long and prosper." He splayed his fingers in a perfect Vulcan salute."

"Here's to the weekend," Kensi said wickedly and then held out her glass for a refill. Life was so good, so very good. And it was only going to get better.

* * *

><p><em>Here's to the weekend indeed - and we all know what happens this weekend... I just hope Kensi has been feeding Deeks up so he's back to full strength. Believe me, he's going to need to be...<em>


	37. Chapter 37

"How come I have to wait here for Sam and Callen?" Marty looked at the large case Kensi had lugged down the stairs.

"Because you're still not allowed to drive." Kensi's tone was very patient, even if she had already explained this at least half a dozen times already. But she'd been planning this weekend for so long and now she could hardly manage to keep her excitement out of her voice. It was a struggle to even remember the last time they'd done something like this – just going away for the weekend, just the two of them, with no plans to do anything except make love as often as possible. "You know what the doctors said – you have to wait at least six weeks after the injury before you start to drive again, and only after another scan gives you the all-clear." All the signs were looking good: apart from a few headaches, there were no other side-effects, no reason to suppose there would be any long-term damage.

"I could come with you." The suspense was killing him. Kensi had dropped the odd hint, but nothing more than that. This was worse than the night before Christmas, frantically squeezing the presents underneath the tree and trying to work out what they were – and praying they weren't something boring like a new socks, or a chemistry set that couldn't even produce the smallest of explosions.

"And leave Densi home alone?" Kensi kissed her baby and felt a slight pang of regret, one that was almost instantly replaced by thigh-trembling burst of sheer lust as she looked at Marty, who was doing his level best to look put-upon. "You have a lovely time with Uncle G and Auntie Nell. And try to be a good boy." She didn't hold out too much hope on that front: Densi had never spent the night away from home before and he was a creature of habit.

"He's got his bun-bun." Marty looked at the creature with something approaching repulsion. "I still don't see what possessed Nell to buy that thing. It looks evil."

"Densi loves it though, and that's all that matters." Kensi still had a thousand things to do and no time to debate the aesthetic qualities of a stuffed rabbit. "See you in a couple of hours." All this keeping secrets was just making things even better, she thought. It was almost like she was sneaking out to have an affair.

"I won't be late."

"Good. Because I'll be waiting."

Marty lay back and sat Densi on his stomach. "Women," he said conversationally, "are different from men. And mostly that's good. But sometimes, they can drive you mad. Mommy seems to think that if I walk into a hotel room and find her sitting there on the bed with a red ribbon tied around her waist, that it's going to be special. Now, you and I know that's not the case, don't we?" He still only had to look at Kensi and want her. Familiarity most certainly did not breed contempt. It brought certainty, and shared pleasure and mutual memories that only they shared. And then there was the small fact that they were still able to surprise one another. Life would never grow stale with Kensi around. He wasn't exactly averse to the idea of her wearing nothing but a red ribbon either.

Densi appeared to be trying to stuff his entire hand into his mouth, and was doing a remarkable good job of it.

"You really should listen to me, kiddo. Because one day, you'll be glad of my words of wisdom. You see, when a woman gets an idea into her mind, your job is to go along with it, 100%. You remember that, and you won't go far wrong." Marty looked at his watch and wondered if he could possibly stand the suspense much longer. "Oh, and do it with a smile on your face. It's simpler that way."

* * *

><p>"A blindfold? Really?" Marty looked at the length of black fabric in disbelief. "You expect me to wear a blindfold?"<p>

"Kensi's orders." Sam wasn't too sure that it was really such a good idea to drive around LA with a blindfolded man in the backseat, but who was he to argue with Kensi? Certainly not after the way she'd bossed him and Callen about all week, getting things ready to her very exacting specifications. It was only to easy to see that she was an Army brat and that a lot of her father's Marine Corps background had rubbed off on her. And after days of humping furniture up and down stairs he was too tired to argue with her, and had just accepted the stricture about the need for absolute secrecy to be maintained right up to the very last minute without further question.

"Okay. She's the boss. Just like I was telling Densi." He bowed his head meekly and let Callen wrap the cloth around his eyes.

"You can't see?" Callen crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, which caused Densi to go into paroxysms of delight.

"No, but I can take a pretty good guess at what you're doing right now."

"Mind your head then." Callen wasn't taking any chances, and placed his own hand protectively on top of Deeks' head as he got into the car. Kensi would kill him if he delivered Deeks bleeding or unconscious.

"All ready for the magical mystery tour? Sam revved the engine and glanced across at his partner. Deeks had no idea what he was in for…

"We're here." Sam looked in the rear view mirror. "Deeks?"

"I think he fell asleep about ten minutes ago." Callen reached back and joggled his knee. "Want to wake up? We've arrived at the palace of pleasure."

Instinctively raising up a hand to pull down the blindfold, Marty found it grabbed firmly. "No peeking. What did we tell you?"

"Just wait till we've delivered you, safe and sound." Sam retrieved Densi from his car seat and tucked him comfortably under one arm, while Callen helped Deeks stumble across the sidewalk.

"This is a set up, isn't it?"

"No set up. Door to door delivery. We're just doing exactly as we were told – by She Who Must Be Obeyed. There's stairs here." Callen kept his hand underneath Deeks' elbow and guided him upwards.

"This is definitely a wind-up." After six flights of stairs, he could feel his legs starting to shake, which was pretty dispiriting after all the work he'd put in that week trying to get fit again.

"No wind-up. And we're here." Callen patted him on the shoulder. "Enjoy the weekend." He and Sam belted down the stairs at top speed.

Pulling off the blindfold, Marty blinked owlishly in the light. He was standing in the hallway of an apartment block that looked incredibly familiar. There was a door in front of him, and while it had been painted a different colour, it too was ringing bells. And it was standing ajar.

"Curiouser and curiouser."

Only it wasn't curious at all, because Marty knew exactly where he was and he had a very good idea what was going on. He walked down the hallway of his very last bachelor apartment, down towards a large room with windows that looked out onto the ocean and let the light flood in; a room with a polished wooden floor and a large fur rug and it was hard to stop himself grinning. And then he turned around a saw a once-familiar black leather chair, a bottle of champagne and a red rose. The bottle of champagne was in Kensi's right hand and the rose was between her teeth. And she was sitting in the black leather chair, her legs swung over the side and wearing a pair of sheer stockings, stiletto heels and a fuscia-coloured corset, trimmed with black lace. And nothing else at all. Apart from a smile that could have been the personification of 'come hither'.

"I think I've died and gone to heaven."

"That's a pity, because I've got no intention of being good this weekend." Kensi uncurled her legs and stood up slowly. "I want to be very bad indeed." She put down the bottle of champagne and stood beside him. "How about you join me – for old times' sake?"

"This is where it all began." Marty looked around and shook his head slowly. "Where we began." He looked down at the fur rug and smiled at the memories. "How did you get all this stuff? Not to mention the apartment?"

"I had a little help." Kensi tucked the rose behind his ear. She wasn't going to tell him how much it had cost to rent the apartment for the weekend, or the fact that she'd had to buy a brand new fur rug, the old one having disappeared into the mists of time. But at least they could take that back home with them on Sunday. It had just been sheer luck that the apartment had been empty and up for rental again. "Callen really didn't want to part with the chair though." He'd been quite grumpy about having to cart the various pieces of furniture up three storeys too and had kept telling her that he wasn't getting any younger.

"I can imagine." Marty sat down and pulled the handle so that it reclined. "I missed this chair."

"I didn't." Although it had been surprisingly comfortable, she had to admit.

"How about you come join me?" He patted his knee invitingly.

"Join you in the vibrating porn chair?" Kensi's mouth was beginning to curve into the smile he found irresistible.

"Why not?" For the first time in weeks he was starting to look a bit more like the old-Marty, Kensi thought, with an almost painful joy. And that made all the hard work, all the planning and all the money worthwhile, just to see that look on his face again, the faint glow of colour and the sparkle in his eyes.

Why not indeed? Kensi sauntered slowly across the floor, and her heels made a staccato click that punctuated each step. She straddled the chair, leaning close so that her cleavage looked even better than before and kissed him.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this," Marty confessed.

"Actually, I do." That had to be the reason guys bought these chairs in the first place, didn't it? But this was a special occasion and what was wrong with fulfilling the odd fantasy along the way? "So, what happens next? Does the corset stay on or off?"

"On. Definitely on. But take off your stockings – very slowly."

"Like this?" Kensi held out her foot and let him slip off the shoe before placing her foot on his knee and unfastening the stocking top from the suspender clips. Starting at the top of her thigh, she began to roll down the stocking, aware that Marty's eyes were firmly glued to the action of her fingers. As she moved towards her ankle, Kensi stopped and lifted her foot up.

"How about you help me?" The foot waved enticingly in front of his face and Marty took the gauzy fabric between his teeth and pulled, so that Kensi's toenails, painted a bright scarlet, were suddenly revealed.

"You are so full of surprises."

The foot was now lying in his lap and it wasn't lying still.

"You'd better believe it." With both feet safely back on the ground, Kensi turned around and started to unroll the other stocking. It was impossible to notice that she was not wearing anything underneath the corset. Marty lay back in the chair watching and thought he'd just gone to heaven.

* * *

><p><em>Randy plot bunny is now demanding a black leather reclining chair too. Like I make any money out of this...<em>


	38. Chapter 38

_please be advised that this chapter contains adult material._

* * *

><p>"Don't I get to help?" While watching was good – very good indeed, especially from this angle – Marty knew that it would be even better to be touching Kensi, to be running his hands down the length of her leg, and then maybe back up again.<p>

"You want to help?" Kensi peeked round beguilingly at him and then moved to sit on the arm of the chair. "Help yourself."

He didn't need to be told twice. If ever there was an invitation that simply could not be refused, then this was it. Slowly Marty eased the fine-gauge stocking down her leg, dotting a series of kisses as her skin was gradually revealed.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Kensi moved so that she was kneeling over him, one knee on either side of his legs.

"Maybe once or twice. There was this girl called Fern and she taught me all sorts of things." His hands were on her bare ass, and it felt as if they were on fire and branding her. Kensi rotated her hips slightly, watching the smile on his face broaden and then bent over and reached down the side of the chair.

"I'll bet she did. But I've got a few tricks of my own." She found the button and there was a whir as the motor purred into action and the chair began to move.

"Seems you were right when you called this a vibrating porn chair," Marty admitted, lying back and enjoying the sensations that seeped throughout every inch of his body. Okay, finally a long-held dream had finally come true.

"Make the most of it, because this is the only time this is going to happen," Kensi informed him, with mock fierceness. "And it's only because you've been so ill."

"And because you love me?"

"That too."

"And because you've secretly always wanted to?" he asked hopefully, but Kensi stopped any further questions by kissing him, while at the same time undoing his belt, and then unbuttoning his jeans.

They had made love several times since Marty's return from hospital: slow, languorous love-making, two people celebrating their love, moving in unison and knowing one another so intimately. But this was different, there was nothing slow or deliberate in the slightest. The only foreplay had been verbal but they were both ready and when he slammed into her, it almost took Kensi's breath away. This was hard, fast and urgent, almost rough, all about fulfilling a mutual need. It was like the wildest ride on a runaway horse, with their violent movements counterpointed by the motions of the chair.

Kensi found that she was digging her nails into Marty's shoulders, and then as he reared up towards her again she was raking them right down the length of his back. The subdued groan of pain this caused only served to spur her desire on even further, contracting her inner muscles to hold him firmly and then bucking her hips, rotating them: doing everything she could think of that would bring her to orgasm as quickly as possible. This was all about getting there and she was so close now and they were moving so fast it was getting difficult to breath.

He was getting out of control, Marty thought, but there wasn't a thing he could do about that; there was nothing he could do about it because his body was acting on its own volition and he had no choice but to keep on with this insane rhythm. Forget about holding back and prolonging the moment, the only thing he could comprehend was how insanely good this all felt and how much he needed this: needed to feel alive again, like a man again.

It hit her harder than Kensi had thought possible, shuddering through her so that for a moment she was unable to move and then collapsed bonelessly down on to Marty's chest, which was glazed in sweat and heaving from the exertion. For a long time they remained like that, and the only sound in the room was their rapid intakes of breath as the world gradually returned to normal.

"That was… different." Towards the end, Marty had felt his control fly away completely and knew how right this was.

"Incredible." Kensi watched the pulse beating away in the hollow of his neck and could feel her heart still thundering away inside her chest. There had been a point where she had honestly thought it might burst, but God, it was so good to know that they could still surprise each other with the ferocity of their love, could still be swept away. There had never been anything remotely predictable about their lovemaking, and it looked as if there never would be. "Happy anniversary."

And the best thing of all was that they had the rest of the weekend.

* * *

><p>"You will be careful?" Kensi begged. She was lying on the bed, wearing only a pink satin eye mask, originally intended for the wearer to don as a sleep aid. Except sleep was the farthest thing on her mind at the moment.<p>

"Don't you trust me?" Marty tried to sound aggrieved, but nothing could disguise the tremor of excitement in his voice.

"I trust you – I'm just not sure if I trust you with a razor in your hand. It's not like you've had much practice, after all."

"I've had enough, believe me." He sat back on his heels. "Mind you, if it's day in, day out experience you want, maybe we should ask Sam to come over and give me some hints and tips?"

"Don't you dare!" Kensi started to giggle at the idea.

"He could maybe even give a practical demonstration. Sam could do one side, and then I could do the other. How does that grab you?"

"It's not. Not in the slightest." Kensi lifted up the mask and peeked out. "As fantasies go, that one sucks."

"It doesn't do that much for me either," he confessed, reaching over and pulling it firmly back into position. "Lie back and relax."

"I don't think 'relax' is quite the word I'd have chosen," Kensi began, and then gave a squeak of surprise as Marty squeezed out a generous amount of shaving foam. "That's really cold!" she protested half-heartedly as he rubbed it in and then subsided as she felt his hand gently nudging against her inner thigh. Responding to his touch, she crooked her leg accordingly. "Is that okay?"

"Perfect." Marty bent down and attended to the task with intense concentration. A shiver of delight ran down Kensi's spine as the razor made its first pass. The need for perfect stillness, the fact she could not see a thing and yet knew that Marty was looking at her intently all combined to build up an expectation and to create an excitement that was difficult to contain – and yet she had to. There was nothing quite like knowing that a razor was sweeping around the most delicate and sensitive parts of your anatomy to induce a state of almost paralysis.

"And does madam have any special requests today?"

"Be careful," she begged

"Very funny. You think I don't have a vested interest in this?" He moved her other leg gently into position, and once again the razor started to glide over her skin. "Nearly there." Which was true in more ways than one.

"I'm beginning to think you might just have done this before." He was being incredibly gentle, using slow, precise movements.

"I know the theory – but I've never put it into practice in quite this way before." One last stroke and it was finished. "Okay – do not move. And do not peek." The bed moved as he got up.

Kensi could not help herself. "Or what?"

"Or I'll take a photo on my cell phone," he called out from the bathroom.

That was enough to freeze her into instant immobility. "You wouldn't dare."

"You're right, I wouldn't." Marty rang out the washcloth and padded back through. "Okay, hold still."

He had used warm water, but it was still a shock when to feel the cloth on her suddenly exposed flesh and Kensi only just managed to bite back a gasp of astonishment.

"Please tell me you're not going to put aftershave on?" she managed to say, once she'd got her breath back.

"Hell no." He sounded as if he was cringing. "It's easy to see you've never put on any after shaving. Believe me, it stings badly enough on your face, let alone in, uh – more delicate areas."

"I'll take your word for it." Kensi started to sit up. "Can I see this masterpiece now?" She held out her hand and let Marty lead her over to the mirror.

"Ready for the unveiling?"

"As I'll ever be." She tried to sound resigned, but in truth Kensi felt as nervous as any schoolgirl and then was suddenly blinking as the mask was removed. As her eyes adjusted to the light, her gaze moved downwards.

"Well?"

Kensi could see the anxious look on Marty's face as she looked at the perfect love-heart he had created. "You really are surprisingly romantic, do you know that?" She leant back against him and smiled at their reflections. "And surprisingly talented."

"You really like it?"

"I really like it." Kensi lifted up her arms so that she could reach up and pull his face down for a kiss. "And I really love you."

Marty's hand was cupping her, his fingers tangled in the damp curls of his artistic masterpiece. "Want to show me how much?"

* * *

><p><em>Even randy plot bunny didn't see that one coming!<em>


	39. Chapter 39

It was almost a pity, Kensi thought, that she'd refused to let him take a photograph of her neatly sculpted heart, because it was rather perfect. But it was too risky. Maybe she could settle for making this a regular routine and keeping it in tip top condition? That way, everyone would be happy, and nobody, other than herself and Marty would be any the wiser? Except her gynaecologist, of course, but then she was hardly going to pass comment, was she? And that way Kensi would save a small fortune on bikini waxes into the bargain. It really was a result all round.

* * *

><p>"You have all the best ideas," They were lying spoon-fashion, with Kensi's butt pressed firmly into the bend of his body, while Marty's arm gently caressed one breast.<p>

"You have your moments."

"It was you who suggested we should move in together," he reminded her.

"True, but you were the one who proposed." That had been such a surprise -seeing him drop down on his knees at Thanksgiving, before all their friends and family.

"We kind of decided on the wedding together."

Prague. Glorious Prague. They'd have to go back one day.

"Densi wasn't exactly planned by either of us though, was he?"

"He was the best mistake we ever made. The best surprise ever. But then I'm prejudiced." Marty started kissing Kensi's neck in the exact spot underneath her ear that was guaranteed to drive her crazy in about ten seconds. "But this weekend rates right up there."

"It's pretty great, isn't it? Just the two of us." But there was a part of Kensi that felt slightly hollow - not all the time, just when she thought about Densi. Which she did – a lot.

"You reckon he's alright?" Marty wondered how it was possible to miss someone so small quite so much. Densi had claimed a part of his heart and he had a tight hold.

Oh God, she hoped so. Kensi just hoped she wasn't a terrible mother for going away from him. He was still so tiny, still needed her so much. And neither Nell or Callen had any experience with babies. She should have asked Sam, she knew she should have. "He'll be fine," she said. Marty didn't need to know how guilty she felt. He needed this time together – and so did she. After all they'd been through together in the past few months, they really needed to just be alone together, to celebrate the fact that there was still a Kensi and Deeks. She didn't like to think about how close she had been to losing him, because that was unthinkable.

"He'll be fine." Kensi just hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

"Of course he will." What could possibly go wrong? "Have you phoned them to check?"

"Half an hour ago." And she'd even sung down the phone, _'Dream A Little Dream'_, just like she always did.

So that was alright then.

* * *

><p>"Deeks?"<p>

"It's eight o'clock in the morning." He got out of bed as quietly as possible and went into the living room, closing the door behind him. "Why are you phoning so early?" A dreadful thought struck him. "Please tell me there isn't a major case and Hetty needs Kensi to come in?" He was pretty sure that Kensi had major plans for the rest of their weekend together, given that he spied a gallon tub of ice cream in the freezer, not to mention a bottle of caramel sauce.

"No, it's not a case." Callen took a deep breath. "Look, I don't want you to worry, but…"

"It's Densi, isn't it?" Deeks sank down onto the recliner. "What's happened? Is he alright?" He could feel the adrenelin starting to surge through his body.

"He's fine," Callen soothed. "Well, not fine, but he's alright."

In the background, the thin, fretful wail of an unhappy baby could be heard plainly.

"Just tell me, Callen. Okay? What's wrong with my son?"

Callen cringed when he heard the barely controlled anger. Deeks was normally so laid back as to be almost horizontal, but when he was riled, his temper was awesome in its ferocity.

"He's got an ear infection. We took him to hospital and they said…" He was cut off abruptly.

"Which hospital? You stay there, because we're coming right over."

"We're back home now. And he's fine. Do you hear me, Deeks – Densi is fine."

"He doesn't sound fine. And he needs us." He ended the call and sank his head down between his knees, trying to breathe deeply and work out how best to break the news to Kensi.

* * *

><p>"I'm really sorry that we ruined your weekend." Nell looked completely miserable as she watched Kensi and Deeks sitting close together on the sofa, examining their son in minute detail. The medicine had finally kicked in, and the exhausted baby was sound asleep in Kensi's arms.<p>

"To hell with the weekend. You should have called us the minute he got sick."

"He wasn't sick, Deeks," Callen started.

"He's a tiny baby who can't tell you if he feels sick. That's your job." Deeks gave him a long, cold stare.

"We thought he was just missing you," Nell said. "He wouldn't settle, and he was getting cranky."

"And we took it in turns to check on him – every single hour, right through the night." Callen knew where Deeks was coming from, he really did, but he wasn't about to be anyone's whipping boy. "At five, Nell noticed he had a bit of a fever, and that's when we took him to the hospital."

"We'd have done the same thing." Kensi put her hand on his arm. "You did all the right things." She looked back at her son, who was still slightly too warm, and had a flush about his face.

Deeks had the good grace to look abashed. "Yeah. Sorry." He didn't look at Callen, being too busy watching Densi, who seemed to be snuffling slightly. "I think we should get him home."

"And thank you for taking him to the hospital." There was a slight edge to Kensis voice.

"Yeah. What she said." He finally tore his eyes away from Densi long enough to look at Callen directly. "I really am sorry. I was right out of line."

Callen brushed the apology aside. "You were worried."

"I was frantic," he admitted.

"Me too," Kensi confessed.

"Make that all four of us."

"No offense, Deeks, but next time you want a night away, get Sam to do the babysitting duties, will you?" Callen was pretty sure the last few hours had just given him his first grey hair.

"We're never going away again until he's at least ten," Kensi vowed.

"What she said." They might feel differently in a few months, or even in a few years, but right now they realised what was really important.

After they left, Callen sank bank into the sofa wearily and closed his eyes. "You know how you wanted a baby?"

"Past tense," Nell assured him. She wasn't nearly ready to give up her weekends, or more precisely, to give up her life. And she definitely wanted more time with Callen, just the two of them. "Ask me again in five years."

"Great." The idea of going back to bed was very appealing. And if Nell came too, that would be even better. Callen was just about to suggest that, when she sat in his lap and wound her arms around his neck.

"However…"

"However what?" Callen knew that wheedling tone of voice only too well. It generally meant that Nell would suggest something and he would then put up a few token protests and then they'd end up doing what she wanted in the first place. It might be quicker just to give in at the start, but they both recognised the game for what it was.

"We could start small? Something to practice on?"

"We are not getting one of those RealCare Baby dolls." No way, they were too creepy for words.

"The animal shelter's having an open day and they've lots of pets up for adoption."

"Any fish? Or how about a duck? A duck's a great pet – it lays eggs and then when it dies, you can eat it?"

Nell ignored this, just as Callen had known she would. "Do you prefer cats or dogs?"

"I prefer you." He had to at least make a try, didn't he?

"SO we'll go along with open minds – that's great." Nell bounced to her feet. "Come on – what are we waiting for?"

Oh well, the bed would still be waiting when they got back. A cat was probably the best option – they were independent and didn't need walked at inconvenient times. Which no doubt meant that they would come home with a dog.


	40. Chapter 40

"Usual Thanksgiving dinner at your place, Kensi?" Over the years, it had become a tradition that the team would all celebrate the day together and Callen just wanted to make sure things were no different this year, given his own house was currently being turned upside down and inside out by a pair of very lively kittens. He had never known that such small creatures could scale up a pair of full length curtains faster than one of Hetty's legendary forays up the climbing wall. Still, they were cute – very cute indeed. And considerably less bother than a baby. Thank heavens he and Nell had agreed they weren't ready for that challenge yet.

"Kensi?" Sam looked across to where Kensi was staring blankly into space and not paying attention at all. "Thanksgiving – remember that? Kind of a big deal to most Americans. It happens every year. On a Thursday? This week?" He waved both arms in the air and finally got a reaction.

"Sorry. I was a million miles away. Thanksgiving? We've not really given it much thought."

That stunned her team mates into silence. As each year had passed, the celebrations at Kensi and Deeks' house had become more elaborate, with everyone brining at least one dish to the communal meal. They all looked forward to the occasion as one of the rare times when they could all get together outside work and relax properly. But of course, this year things were different. Sam felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt when he realised that they had all just blithely assumed Kensi and Deeks would take on all the responsibility yet again, when right now their lives were busy enough already, what with looking after Densi, the fact that Deeks was only just starting to recover from the assault and Kensi was just easing back into work herself.

"It's not a problem. I mean, we could do it Callen's place this year if you like," Sam offered generously.

"Is everything alright? At home, I mean?" Callen was starting to get worried. Kensi had been terribly quiet all morning.

Kensi shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned and not managing too well. "I wish I knew."

"Is it Deeks?"

Her face brightened momentarily. "Oh, he's fine - getting back to his normal self. Becoming more annoying every day, in other words. No, Marty's fine. It's Densi I'm worried about. This ear infection has really knocked him for six." Over the past two days her lively, energetic baby seemed to have disappeared, to be replaced by a fretful child, who was not even particularly interested in his bottle. It was understandable, even adults could be brought down by an infection: she knew how debilitating and painful earache could be. But this morning she had seriously considered calling Hetty to say that she wouldn't be in to work. There wasn't anything in particular she could put her finger on, just this vague uneasy feeling that something wasn't quite right with Densi.

"Babies are a lot tougher than you think. He'll bounce back." Sam spoke with the voice of experience, and also a considerable amount of empathy¸ knowing just how worried you could get when your child was sick.

She smiled at Sam gratefully. "I'm sure you're right. But I might just see if I can finish early."

"And here's Hetty right now." Callen sometimes wondered if Hetty had some type of listening devices strategically placed around the Mission, so that she could make her seemingly random appearances, which were just too conveniently timed to be coincidental. He took one look at the expression on her face and his pithy remark died unspoken.

"Kensi?" Hetty's tone was almost motherly. "My dear, I'm afraid I am going to have to ask you to come with me."

Kensi sat motionless and unable to say a word, but her eyes said everything: they were limpid and beseeching. It was happening again. Life was turning inside out and upside down and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She should have listened to that still, small voice inside her head this morning, the one that had told her to stay at home, to stay with Densi. And what had she done? She had left her son and come into work.

"Marty has just called me from the hospital." Hetty put one hand on Kensi's shoulder and squeezed sympathetically, and then started to stroke her hair gently.

"It's Densi, isn't it?" She knew she shouldn't have left him this morning. What kind of a mother was she, to leave her baby when he was sick? Kensi was more than just worried, she was raced with guilt and consumed with a strange numbness, because this couldn't be happening, not after everything they'd gone through. This was just some hideous dream and she would wake up any minute and Densi would be in her arms and he'd be just fine. So why couldn't she wake up?

"It's Densi," Hetty confirmed. "Marty became increasingly worried and took him to the hospital." She was growing increasingly concerned about Kensi: the young woman had already endured so much heartbreak and anguish. "He's very sick indeed." Sam was at her side, and Callen was right behind him.

"We'll take you."

But Kensi was unable to move. "What's wrong? Is it the ear infection? Is it worse?"

There was no point in prevaricating. Kensi needed to know the truth, to know just how serious this was, because she needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. She needed to be with her baby and she needed to be with Mart. If things went badly, they were going to need each other more than they had done before.

"Meningitis. They're treating him for meningitis, Kensi."

And the world suddenly turned a peculiar shade of grey. People were continuing to talk, but Kensi couldn't hear what they were saying as that one word echoed around her head, with a hollow, mocking sound. Meningitis. Babies died from meningitis. Babies lost limbs from meningitis. And those who recovered could have hearing impairments or cognitive damage. But babies died. And Densi was so little and she had known there was something wrong with him this morning, when he'd suckled so lethargically. She had known there was something wrong when she picked him up, from the way Densi had just looked at her, rather than with his eyes sparkling with life and exuberant joy . Sam had said babies were tough, but he was wrong. They were so fragile, you literally held their life in your hands and she had failed him.

"Kensi?" Callen was kneeling down in front of her, chaffing her hands between his own. "Don't you dare pass out on me. Hetty said that it's not confirmed – they're running tests. Don't think the worst. Don't you dare think the worst. I won't let you." How come he'd spent his whole life avoiding relationships only to end up falling in love not only with Nell but with Densi Deeks? How the hell had that happened?

Hetty was still petting her hair and Sam's arm was around her shoulders, hugging her, trying to give her a little of his strength, but despite all their attempts at comfort Kensi had never felt so alone or so desolate in her entire life.

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><p><em>Evil plot bunny strikes once again...<em>


	41. Chapter 41

"Deeks!" Sam increased his pace when he saw his team mate leaning against a wall, staring down at his hands.

"They're doing a spinal tap. Wouldn't let me stay." He just kept looking down at some small stuffed animal he was turning over and over in his hands. "Is Kensi here?" Deeks finally looked up and Sam thought that he looked as if his whole world had just collided with an asteroid and had been thrown violently off-course.

"She's just coming." That car journey had been the stuff of which nightmares were made. Sam never wanted to go through anything like that ever again. Kensi's composure had been terrifying, and everyone else was scared rigid by it.

"Good." Deeks drew in a deep breath. "What are we going to do, Sam? If… if the worst happens?" His voice was pleading, full of desperation, almost begging. The repetitive motion of his hands finally stopped and the furry animal fell down onto the ground.

"Don't think like that." Sam gripped the younger man's shoulders. "Never think like that." It wasn't over until it was over.

"It's hard not to." He couldn't think of anything else. And the feeling of being so helpless, not being able to do anything to help his little boy was worse than anything.

"Here comes Kensi now. And Deeks…?" Sam hated to have to say this, but he had to. "She needs you. She needs you to be there for her."

"I know." He knew what he had to do. He had to be strong for Kensi, to take a little of the strain for her. And he needed her just as much. In fact, he had never needed her more in his entire life. Deeks stood up straight and walked towards her, holding his arms out. "Come here." Kensi ran the last few steps, ran to the security of his arms and buried her face in his chest.

And Sam bent down, picked up the little rabbit that was lying forgotten on the floor and shoved it into his pocket, his fingers running abstractedly over its soft fur, trying to root himself in reality, rather than this hideous nightmare. He knew all about these trips to the emergency room, how your heart in your mouth when you saw your sick child, and remembered how willingly you would have traded places, done anything to take away the pain and the terror. Only life didn't work like that. Thankfully, all his daughter's ailments had been minor, but he could still remember the sick feeling they had engendered. He would give his soul to make sure

Callen watched them embrace silently, trying to give each other some strength and saw with sinking dread the haggard expression on Deeks' face, like he was a man walking through a wasteland. "Hang on," he mouthed. "Just hang on." Sometimes that was all you could do: to hang onto your sanity, to the belief that somehow everything would be alright, that there was some form of natural justice in the world.

"Can I see him?" Kensi begged. She'd spent the whole journey to the hospital looking at all the photos on her phone, trying to fix Densi's face in her head, wanting to remember the happy baby she loved so much.

"They were doing some tests." He couldn't bring himself to say what those tests were: the needle had been so long and try as he might, Marty hadn't been able to block out the sound of Densi crying. And that had made him feel even worse – he should have been there, been there with his son.

Sam took a gamble and pushed open the door. "Can the parents come back in?" He received a nod that he took for acquiescence and gestured them forward.

People were talking, but Kensi didn't hear a word they were saying: it was just a jumble of meaningless noise. All that she registered was Marty's hand holding her own so tightly that it hurt – which was good, she welcomed the pain – and her baby lying on a gurney and looking so impossibly tiny and frail. He was only wearing a diaper, and she could see his chest moving rapidly up and down.

"Mommy's here, darling. We're both here." She reached out and stroked his hand tenderly, trying to see past the oxygen prongs taped to his face and the lines piercing his baby skin. Densi looked up her blankly and barely reacted when Marty took hold of his foot and folded his fingers around it.

"He's pretty hot." He looked at the medical staff, desperate for answers.

"We're monitoring David closely, Mr Deeks."

"Densi. We call him Densi," Kensi said.

"We're keeping a very close eye on Densi." Sure enough, there was a myriad of machines that Kensi remembered from her long vigils at Marty's bedside, all flashing away numbers and emitting gentle beeps. "He was starting to become a little dehydrated, so we're giving him IV fluids and antibiotics. And we're supporting him with some oxygen therapy."

"That's it?"

"That's all we can do. We've got him on a broad-spectrum antibiotic at the moment, while we test for what's causing the infection. We think it's viral, possibly as a result of the ear infection. Once we get the results back, we'll know which drug is best suited to try to get on top of this."

Kensi straightened up. "And if it's meningitis?"

"We're already treating Densi as if he does have meningitis. The treatment won't change: we'll just be able to target it more effectively."

"What are his chances?" They had to know, to be prepared for all eventualities.

"I don't think that's particularly helpful at this stage."

Kensi's eyes were dark with fury. "I don't care what you think is helpful. This is my baby and I want to know."

"We need to know." Marty was right beside her, holding onto her hand as if it was the only thing rooting him to reality.

The doctor sighed. "Right now: he's pretty sick. But you got him here early, he's receiving the right treatment and he's an otherwise healthy, well-nourished child. Statistically, the odds are in his favour." He pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Densi's breathing again and then adjusted the oxygen flow slightly. "But each case is different – I can't give you any guarantees. I wish I could, but I can't. We're going to move him up to the paediatric ICU in a few minutes, and then you can stay with him." And now it was going to be a waiting game.

A nurse came over and started moving equipment, ready for the transfer and Kensi and Marty found themselves being gently ushered to one side.

"He's a fighter. And he's stubborn." Marty remembered those first few weeks, when Densi scarcely seemed to have stopped howling. He'd have given anything to hear Densi crying again, but right now he was too weak to do anything except just lie there.

"He's strong. And determined." Kensi thought of Densi rolling over on the floor then and trying to push himself up. "And I love him so much." And he was so little and he needed her so much and she'd failed him. She'd allowed her baby to get sick and she'd gone out that morning and she'd left him. Was this God's way of telling her that she didn't deserve to be a mother?

Marty put both arms around her, wishing there was some way he could comfort her, but knowing there was not. "I know. I do too." He'd never known a love like this and he hated feeling so helpless. If there was a choice, he would trade places with Densi in an instant, without even thinking about it. He would do anything – only there wasn't anything he could do. Things were out of their hands. They could only watch as Densi was wheeled out of the treatment room and up to the ward, and then walk slowly behind the small cavalcade.

Hetty and the rest of the team watched as Kensi and Deeks walked past without seeing them, total devastation etched deep on their faces.

"What can we do?" Nell reached blindly for Callen's hand.

"Absolutely nothing," Hetty said emphatically. "Right now they need to be with Densi. We would only be intruding."

"But what if… what if something should happen?" Callen couldn't say it. This was affecting him more deeply than he had ever thought possible.

Hetty stared at him resolutely. "Then they will need us more than they ever have." Grief was an old friend, one she did not welcome, but whose face she knew only too well, and she had learned to recognise his footstep behind her and to prepare herself appropriately. That did not make death any easier to cope with, but she knew what had to be done and she would not shirk that duty. Death was, after all, just as much a part of life as birth: it was just that they were at opposite ends of the spectrum and diametrically opposed to one another. And one brought joy, while the other brought sorrow.

"I'll stay." Sam's voice was firm and resolute. "I won't go in, I won't intrude – but I'll be here. For them and for all of us." Someone had to stay, because this affected them all, because they all loved Densi, because Kensi and Deeks were like family. He couldn't go away and leave them.

"Very well." Hetty took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and looked down the corridor. So many doors. She had a lifetime's experience of walking down similar corridors and looking at all the doors and wondering which ones lead to danger, which to pleasure and which only opened up to reveal empty promises. One day, she too would take the last journey and open the final door to find all those who had gone before, her family and her friends, just waiting for her. She just prayed that Densi would not be there. When there was so much bitterness, evil and deceit in the world, why should a pure light be extinguished?

So Sam went upstairs too and he waited, albeit in a different corridor, but one that was almost identical: clean and impersonal, populated by people with distracted expressions on their faces. He sat on a hard chair and stared at another door, knowing that behind it Kensi and Deeks were sitting watching their son, and praying harder than they had ever prayed in their lives. He was doing what little he could, just by watching and waiting and praying to a God he hadn't even believed in for years.

"He doesn't seem quite so hot." Was that a good sign or an ill-omen? The strangest thing was seeing Densi lying so still, but maybe that was because his body was using all its energy fighting this infection? Marty had learned a long time ago that you had to hang on, that even when things looked to be at their worst there was still hope, but that didn't make this any easier to bear, or less painful to endure.

Kensi wanted to hold Densi more than she had ever wanted anything in the world. She wanted to feel his solid weight in his arms and to see his blue eyes sparkle with delight and to simply just try to will him to live. The simplest pleasures in life were the most important. A Bible verse kept running through her head: 'Suffer the little children to come unto Me.' And she knew she was putting the wrong interpretation on the words, but it wasn't right that Densi should suffer and she wasn't ready to let him go. He needed to be right here, because she and Marty needed him.

Time had ceased to have any meaning. Time was measured by the slow the drip of fluid going into an IV tube, by the regular beeps coming from one of the machines that were monitoring him, by the fact that you were suddenly aware you bladder was full almost to bursting point, although you could not remember drinking anything. The world had shrunk right down to a baby lying in a hospital crib.

And when the doctor came in, holding a piece of paper and with a quietly triumphant smile on his face, and when he spoke the world blossomed out again into glory, full of bright colour. Because it wasn't meningitis and Densi wasn't going to die. He was going to live, and more than that, he was going to be fine. And Kensi finally allowed herself to weep…

"It's going to be alright," Marty soothed.

"I know." It was such a relief just to let all her feelings out at last. She'd kept herself under such control, using every fibre of her being just to will Densi to be alright but now she could finally let go.

Back out in the corridor, Sam pulled the stuffed rabbit out of his pocket, looked at its face and smiled.


	42. Chapter 42

_It is rather apt that this story is ending at chapter 42, which for those of you who are acquainted with that seminal tome, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, will know is the answer to life, the universe and everything. Okay, maybe that's a slight exggeration... but this is the end of this trilogy._

_Huge thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy the ending._

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><p>"Are you leaving us already, you gorgeous boy?" Densi had become rather a favourite with the nurses during his stay, and he responded with a broad smile at this latest blandishment from one of his many conquests. "We're going to miss you." She reached out for one last hug and he responded enthusiastically. Shyness had never been a problem for Densi Deeks, who happily assumed that everyone loved him.<p>

"Just like his father," Kensi sighed, watching her son kissing the nurse with considerable gusto.

"Great kisser, charming, handsome and irresistible?" Marty said hopefully.

"In your dreams. Not quite enough hair for comfort and a sucker for a pretty smile, more like." She shook her head in mock dismay and then retrieved her son from the nurse. "No offense, but I hope we don't see you any time soon. This family has already spent rather too much time in this hospital." The nurse said goodbye and blew a final kiss to Densi

The prospect of the medical bills had been starting to worry Marty, now that Densi was better. When he'd been ill, that was the last thing on his mind, because he would have done anything, paid anything to save his son. "Maybe we're entitled to a discount?"

"It doesn't work like that, more's the pity." Kensi was just grateful that they were going home – all three of them. Densi had bounced back from his illness with remarkable speed, and after three days of IV antibiotics was back to his old self and full of life once again. But neither of his parents would ever forget those hours they'd spent by his bed, hours in which everything had crystallised into incredible clarity. They had some hard discussions ahead if they were to attempt to reconcile the demands of working for NCIS along with their desire for a family life. One thing was clear – Densi was their first priority and every other decision they made would be with that in mind. But right now, they just wanted to go home and start to live again.

"Not now!" Marty looked at his cell with considerable disgust and only answered it when he saw who was calling. "Hi, Hetty. Yes, he's doing great, thank you. We're just on our way home right now." He rolled his eyes at Kensi. "Really? Can't it wait?"

Kensi tried very hard not to lose her temper. After all, Hetty had been incredibly good and given them as much time off as they'd needed. It was just that she wanted to take Densi home. They'd already missed Thanksgiving with him – his first Thanksgiving, and the anniversary of their engagement. Was it too much to ask that they be allowed a few hours of peace? Apparently, it was. "She wants us to go in, doesn't she?"

Marty nodded dejectedly. "We'll be there shortly." He ended the call and looked at Kensi helplessly. "Hetty says we need to sign some insurance forms. It turns out that the NCIS medical insurance cover extends to Densi and she needs to get the paperwork sorted out today." He wasn't pleased about the necessary detour, but at least it meant they didn't have to refinance the house to pay the hospital bills, so Marty supposed he should be grateful. He just wished it could have waited until tomorrow.

"We've not really got a choice then, have we? So let's just go to the Mission and get this over with." Kensi's voice was full of cold resignation.

Rightly judging that no further contribution was required from him, Marty followed behind her somewhat staccato footsteps as she strode down the corridor. Hetty's timing left a lot to be desired, that was for sure. "You want me to drive?" he offered when they got to the car, in what had to be an all-time record. Judging by her current form Kensi could represent the USA at any power-walking event.

"How many times do we have to go over this? You can't drive until you get the all-clear from the doctors. And you can't go back to work either. Okay?"

"How about you rub it in a bit harder? After all, you managed to stop just short of telling me how completely useless I am."

Kensi thumped the steering wheel in frustration. "I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. I'm just mad at life. And Hetty in particular."

"It's not Hetty's fault Densi got sick," he pointed out.

"Why don't you stop being reasonable and just let me be mad?"

"Because I'd quite like us all to get home in one piece? Like you said, we've spent enough time in the hospital over the past few months. They could practically name a wing after us."

"Don't tempt fate," Kensi pleaded. "We've had enough bad luck this year."

"It hasn't all been bad." Marty turned round and looked at Densi, who was snoozing in his car seat. "Some of it's been amazing. Some of it I wouldn't change for the world."

"I bet you'd change what happened to your hair though." Satisfied she'd had the last word on that particular topic, Kensi drove out of the parking lot and said a quick prayer that she wouldn't be back here any time soon.

Marty pulled down the sun visor and studied himself critically in the mirror. "It's not that bad, is it?" He now just looked like a man with a very short haircut, rather than one who was critically ill. "I mean, it's not unlike Callen's."

"If I wanted a man with Callen's hairstyle, I'd have gone out with Callen." Kensi's mouth twitched into a smile. "I still could, I suppose. Nell and I could swap partners. If I paid her enough."

"Keep talking. This is sounding better by the second. Have you ever noticed what cute hair Nell's got? Cute short hair. We could be a cute couple together." Once his hair grew enough to be able to be classified as short, rather than newly-shorn.

"You keep dreaming, Marty. That's what you're good at. And just for the record, I love you, no matter what. With or without hair. But don't plan on keeping like that, alright?"

"Have I told you how much I love it when you're bossy?"

"Once or twice. Generally when I'm wearing black leather and bondage sandals. With optional whip." Checking in the rear view mirror, Kensi caught a glance of her sleeping son. "We're not going to be able to do this sort of thing much longer, you know. Pretty soon he's going to be walking and talking and repeating everything he hears."

"So we'll whisper."

"Won't work. Densi will just learn to lip-read, like his Mommy.

"Okay, then we'll learn Latin. Amo, amas, amat. And then if Densi wants to eavesdrop, at least he's going to get a classical education at the same time." Actually, that made a lot of sense.

Kensi just hoped that Densi took after her. She wasn't quite sure she could cope if he took after his father. And if he did, maybe they'd just have to try for another baby and hope number two turned out differently? Not that she would change a single thing about either of her men – except maybe for Marty's hair to grow back a bit more quickly. God, she really missed his hair!

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><p>"How about you run in and sign the papers and I'll just wait here with Densi?" Kensi wasn't sure how much tact and diplomacy she could muster right now.<p>

"Hetty said she needed both of us to sign. Don't ask me why," Marty could see she was planning to object and held up his hands in supplication. "And don't shoot the messenger either."

"I already did that. Right in the butt. Remember?"

"How could I forget? That scar twinges whenever it rains. There are more subtle and less painful ways of getting your man, you know. Anyone ever tell you that?" Marty started to release Densi from his car seat.

Kensi got out of the car reluctantly. "Yes, but it worked, didn't it?"

"You could have just kissed me. That would have worked."

"I'll remember that next time I'm in the market for a new man, okay?" Kensi followed them into the Mission, aware that she was dragging her feet. "Of course, it could just be that you're a push-over." She just managed to avoid walking straight into her husband's back when Marty suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "How about you give me a warning before you do that?"

"Sorry." Marty reached around with his free hand and started to pull her forward. "But I think you're going to want to see this."

They were all waiting there: the whole team – Hetty, Sam, Callen, Nell and Eric. And they were standing around a long table, laid with a white cloth and set for Thanksgiving dinner.

"None of us felt like celebrating Thanksgiving last week, with Densi in the hospital." Hetty stepped forward and took the little boy into her arms.

"And it wouldn't have been the same without you." It had taken a near-tragedy for Callen to realise that all his searching for his birth family had been pointless, because his real family had been here all along. You had to know what you were actually looking for before you could hope to find it. Finally, his search was over and he knew that he belonged.

"You did this for us?" Kensi was trying to take it all in: the turkey, the cranberry sauce, even Nell's justly famous pumpkin pie.

"We did it for you," Sam confirmed, with a broad smile. He pulled a slightly bedraggled toy rabbit out of his pocket and watched Densi's face light up with familiar joy as he spied his beloved bun-bun.

"You even got the salt and pepper shakers Nell gave us," Marty said in awe. The ceramic turkeys stood in pride of place in the centre of the table, just like they had done for every Thanksgiving for the past three years.

Nell realised that the good hour she had spent going through their kitchen cabinets searching for the condiment set had been worth every single minute, just to see the looks on Kensi and Deeks' faces. "They're part of our traditions for Thanksgiving now. And last week, we all realised that it wasn't the date that was important – it was the people. It's all about being together."

They would celebrate many other Thanksgivings together over the coming years, and though the team inevitably evolved and changed over time, some things remained inviolate. In the end, that which was really important endured. And when it happened that a well-loved face was missing, a place was set in their absence, their memory was toasted with love and grateful thanks. They might not share a common lineage, but they had forged their own family and the ties that had been formed would never be broken or forgotten

"Happy Thanksgiving." Kensi's heart was so full, and she had so much to be thankful for, that it almost seemed churlish to ask for more. But it would be wonderful if the next year could just be quiet and peaceful and totally uneventful. Actually, she would just settle for the next week being totally routine and boring. She was roused out of this happy fantasy when Sam gave a sharp yelp and stared at his finger in disbelief.

"Why didn't you tell me your son's started teething?" He'd grown accustomed to Densi's habit of putting things into his mouth, and had thought nothing of it, until the pain registered.

Densi beamed at his mother and started to dribble copiously. So much for her dreams of a quiet life, Kensi thought, and then picked up a table napkin and tied it around his neck. Sometimes you just had to go with the flow. And she'd get so bored if life didn't throw up the odd challenge. Right now, there was absolutely nothing Kensi would change about her life, because it was absolutely perfect, in every single way that mattered: she had the best friends in the world; she had a son she adored more than life itself; and she had Marty, who still looked at her as if she had lassoed the stars and who in turn was pretty much her reason for living. All the rest was just incidental. Life was very sweet indeed, when you knew you were loved. And so Kensi sat down at the table, surrounded by all those she cared about and she gave the most heartfelt thanks.

**THE END**

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><p><em>I've loved writing this trilogy and I hope you've enjoyed reading it too. <em>  
><em>It all started 4 months ago, and clocks in at around 200,000 words!<em>  
><em>To say I've been overwhelmed by reader reaction would be a complete understatement.<em>

_Please note: no plot bunnies were harmed during the writing of this, and they have all been rounded safely up and put back in their hutches._  
><em>For the time being...<em>

_thanks again  
>Maxie Kay<em>


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